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i'roin raiutiug by ilaud llumplirey. 




ROSAMOND 


THE ROSAMOND 
TALES 

SIXTEEN SHORT STORIES 
INTENDED FOR CHILDREN 


BY 

CUYLER ^REYNOLDS 

Author of 

“ Janet ; a Character Study,” “ Recurrence of Letters ” “ Banquet 
Book of Quotations,” etc. 

Illustrated by the Author 

“ He cometh unto you with a tale which holdeth children from play.” 

— Sir Philip Sidney. 



BOSTON 

L. C. Page & Company 

1901 



Jfixst {ntpression, Sept, 17, 1 901 



THE LIBRARY OF 
CONGRESS, 
Two COHEH Reosived 


OCT. 19 1901 


Cofvrkjht entry 




CLASS ^ XXa No. 



Copyright^ igoi 
By L. C. Page & Company 

(incorporated) 

All rights reserved 


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(IToIonfal sprees 

Dectrotyped and Printed by C. H. Simonds & Ca 
Boston. Mass., U. S. A. 




THIS LITTLE VOLUME OF TALES 
IS DEDICATED TO 

• 

WHOSE CHEERFUL WORDS OF APPRECIATION 
HAVE LED HIS FATHER TO HOPE THAT 
OTHERS WILL RECEIVE THEM WITH 
THE SAME GRATEFUL ACCORD 



INTRODUCTION 


Scientists claim that they have learned just how long 
a child may confine his mind to any one thing which he 
is doing without dangerous results. They tell us that 
after making twenty-five thousand tests, the best educa- 
tors in America have clearly demonstrated that the length 
of time a child six years of age can concentrate its mind 
does not exceed seven minutes, and that all efforts to 
confine the attention upon one subject beyond this limit 
are worse than useless. This power of concentration in- 
creases slowly. At the age of eight, a child’s attention 
may be easily held ten minutes ; at the age of twelve his 
mind should not be riveted upon one subject longer than 
seventeen minutes. It is therefore a great mistake to 
keep a child of this age occupied by any task, even prac- 
tising at the piano, for more than one-quarter of an hour. 
After a change of occupation, another fifteen minutes’ 
practice will be of incalculably more benefit than the 
attempt to continue work after the brain and nerves have 
become fatigued. 


X 


INTRODUCTION, 


If this be so, then it is of the utmost importance that 
the parents place only the best before the child — the best 
sort of play, the best line of studies, and, particularly, the 
best in literature as suited to their age. Only sound 
principles, only healthy illustrations, only good English ; 
surely we may plead at least for these three things in the 
books we give to children to rest, to refresh, to amuse 
them. 

There is much cause for rejoicing among parents in the 
evinced broadening of ideals the world over, and this has 
been brought about in a marked degree by the recognition 
given to the idea that the best in literature is none too 
good for the children. The wise stimulation of the infant 
imagination is fruitful of excellent results, and how better 
may this be done than by providing them with good ideas, 
if not our own at all times, then those of the writers capa- 
ble of performing so important a mission by their pens. 
Such books will prove more beneficial to the growing gen- 
eration than the mere memorising of dates, facts, and fig- 
ures, for they direct the intellect in prudent paths, and 
stimulate the sympathies for further progress without 
stocking the storehouse of the mind with impracticable 
collections of knowledge. 

Fun without frivolity, morality without sermonising, 
humour without vulgarity, simpleness without silliness, 
sentiment without sentimentalism ought to be aimed at. 


INTRODUCTION, 


XI 


And the two best things in which to interest them are the 
knowledge and love of Nature, the true nurse of childhood, 
and the lives and characters of men whom they can first 
admire and then emulate. 

William Croswell Doane, 
Bishop of Albany and Vice-Chancellor of the 
New York State Board of Regents, 


PREFACE. 


It having been my experience to fill the post of a 
bedtime narrator of stories for other persons’ children 
for many years, and more recently for my own child, 
the task of calling forth new tales nightly, when one 
naturally feels like resting the mind and body, is appre- 
ciated. It is for this reason that I would supply for other 
fathers and mothers a new variety of stories, which I trust 
will fill in the five-minute interim between undressing and 
sleep, when every child craves a yarn to induce the yawn. 

The training which has made me presumptive to under- 
take this particular line of work was derived by an abun- 
dant acquaintance at an early age with children’s books, 
and soon afterward with the characters sketched by Dick- 
ens, Cooper, and Scott, the usual reading for growing 
children. But perhaps the greatest impression was created 
by Abbott’s stories about Rollo and his friend Jonas, 
Maria Edgeworth’s charming tales, and by that American 
boy’s favourite, “Tom Sawyer,” which was a new book 
at that time. These earliest books brought to my atten- 
tion were the ones to be remembered all through life. 

xiii 


xiv 


PREFACE, 


It has been my intention to make the stories interesting 
to reader and child alike ; by causing the former to wonder 
at the probable denouement of the plot furnished in each 
story, or chapter, and to make the latter pay strict atten- 
tion. Another aim has been to keep the tone healthy, 
and in nowise overexcite the child’s thoughts as it is 
about to sleep. 

These stories are for children between the ages of four 
and ten or twelve years. The words are not only practi- 
cally limited in length to two syllables, but they are words 
that should be understood by a child learning to spell. In 
spite of this plan, the result has not necessarily been an 
inane style, as one might suppose would be the case upon 
such an attempt. 

In my experience as a modest critic, I have been 
brought into contact with many hundred books and thou- 
sands of magazines each year for a decade, and I have 
found that the chief defect in stories for the young is the 
use of words which, although short ones, cannot be under- 
stood by a child under twelve years of age. One may 
recognise the force of this remark by asking a child the 
meaning of the words in any one of the Mother Goose 
Rhymes.” It is the jingle there that creates the fascina- 
tion which glosses over the hard words. 

It has also been my endeavour to accomplish three 
things — to cause the child to reason, thus persuading 


PREFACE. 


XV 


him to adopt a method of learning more for himself ; to 
induce a child to study Nature, and to use words correctly. 
By going farther, and omitting such miserable words as 
“very’" (a word used too plentifully in the usual child’s 
story), the child acquires in a natural manner a better 
style of diction. 

The tales are intended to be read one on each evening. 
Although connected, each is complete in incident, and I 
trust that the result will be that no child who listens to 
them will be led to say They may be heavenly tales, but 
have no earthly meaning.” 

With the consciousness that each of the sixteen stories 
has passed muster with my first critic, I present them to 
other children for their criticism, hoping for the best. 

CuYLER Reynolds. 


Albany^ N. F. 



CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 

I. 

The Lost Child 


• 




PAG£ 

19 

11. 

Old Black Joe 


• 




35 

III. 

At the Circus 


• 




43 

IV. 

The Child Monkey 


• 




60 

V. 

Only a Rabbit 






75 

VI. 

Taming Pets . 


• 




86 

VII. 

On the Farm . 


• 




103 

VIII. 

Making a Garden . 


• 




119 

IX. 

In the Woods 






139 

X. 

Blowing Bubbles . 






^57 

XL 

The Lost Coin 


• 




173 

XII. 

The Bear Hunt 


• 




188 

XIII. 

The Lost Lamb 


• 




210 

XIV. 

The Fishing -pool . 


• 




229 

XV. 

Taming a Squirrel 


• 




248 

XVI. 

Snow Forts . 


• 

• 



267 




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LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 

Rosamond Frontispiece ^ 

Sancho Panza 23 '• 

A Hay Picnic . . . . . . . .27-- 

Rosamond and Sancho Panza 39 

“ In one of the open cages was a man ” . . . 47 

The Herd of Elephants 51 

“The big fellows stood in a row” . . . • 55 -- 

Rosamond and Jocko 61 ^ 

Taking Jocko for a Walk 73 

Snowball and Nigger 77 

“A BASKET FULL OF GOOD THINGS” . . . .89 

At the Brook 93 

The Farm Yard 107 

His Grandfather’s Pigs iii 

Rosamond and His Grandfather . . . .121 

Ready for Work 125 

Giant and Samson 147 . 

Rosamond Driving the Mowing-Machine . . 153 

Blowing Bubbles 163 

Fishing in the Brook 17 1 

“For some time the fish did not bite”. . . 177 

The Bear Sitting on the Chair . . . .203 


LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 

PAGE 

The Bear Dancing 207 

Dick 213 

Rosamond and Dick 217 

At the Fishing Pool , 235 <- 

Watching the Fish ....... 241 v 

“Rosamond fished for about an hour” . . .245 

“ One day his grandfather took him up into the 

pasture” ........ 249 

In the Hayfield . . . . . . .261 

Building the Snow -Fort 275 

The Snow -Fort Is Built 279 


THE ROSAMOND TALES. 


I. 

THE LOST CHILD. 

Once upon a time there was a little boy, 
and his name was Rosamond. A nice, manly 
little fellow was he, good as most boys, yet 
full of fun, and every one liked him. The 
neighbours would say to their children : 
“Why do you not watch Rosamond, and 
learn how to behave ; ” or, “ Play with Rosa- 
mond, and you will not get into trouble.” 
Yet, in spite of their praise of him, Rosa- 
mond often got into mischief, and sometimes 
his parents were forced to punish him. That 
is, perhaps, the reason why he was better 
than most boys of his age. 


19 


20 


THE ROSAMOND TALES. 


Around his father s house were fine, grassy 
lawns, and handsome trees made it cool in 
summer. In the yard, behind the house, 
were the flower gardens, which Rosamond 
had made himself. It was here that the 
children usually played. Their live pets 
lived in a barn at the end of this yard, and 
this was the spot where his boy friends liked 
to gather for a romp. 

Rosamond had one sister, but no brothers, 
and her name was Rosalind. He loved her 
because she never made a fuss when other 
boys were at play with him. She joined in 
the sport, and made the games more pleas- 
ant. Her hair was a bright golden yellow, 
and many persons said that she looked like 
a fairy; but Rosamond and she knew that 
there were no fairies, that they simply meant 
by saying fairy ” that she was prettier than 
were most young girls. 

Their father and mother were almost too 
good to them, for they gave to the children 
more toys and live pets than most children 
receive. His father wanted him to grow 


THE LOST CHILD. 


21 


up with a love for live things, and that is 
why Rosamond was given rabbits, chickens, 
a dog, a parrot, a kitten, and many other 
pets. His father was strict, and made Rosa- 
mond care for them. He noted whether the 
children treated the animals well, and Rosa- 
mond knew that, should he neglect to feed 
any one of them, or beat them in anger, 
his father would give them away to a little 
friend of his living around the corner. But 
Rosamond was kind to them all, and when 
he visited the .yard, pigeons, rabbits, and 
chickens always ran to meet him, nor did 
they fear his big dog, for they knew he 
would not harm them. 

Rosamond had many friends. Fathers 
of many other boys were not so kind as 
was his father, and, as they had no pets, 
save, perhaps, a cat or some big, old chick- 
ens, who were too fat and too lazy to run, 
they liked to call on Rosamond, and play 
with him in the large barn behind the house. 
When these other boys were bad, their, 
fathers did not have to whip them. They 


22 


THE ROSAMOND TALES. 


simply said : “ You cannot go to play 

with Rosamond to-day.” Then they were 
sorry for doing wrong. 

When Rosamond was a baby, his father 
had bought a handsome dog. He was white, 
with brown spots here and there on his 
body. Some of these spots were large and 
round, looking like pancakes. At first, this 
was the name that they wished to give to 
the dog, but Rosamond s father did not like 
the name, and said : We will call him, not 
Pancake, but Panza, Sancho Panza, for he 
is our faithful friend.” It was thus that the 
dog was given his queer name. As he grew 
to be a larger dog, he became more of a com- 
panion for the children, often playing with 
them, and he allowed no strangers to come 
near them. 

Next door to Rosamond lived a boy called 
Kenneth Gray. He was no older than Rosa- 
mond, and they loved each other like broth- 
ers. They never left one another, except to 
go to bed, and most persons thought that 
they were brothers, for often they would say, 


0 



SANCHO PANZA. 





THE LOST CHILD. 


25 


“Ask your brother to come to our house 
to-day.” Then Rosamond had to explain 
that they were only friends. 

He knew two or three other boys, but 
none of them quite so well as Kenneth Gray, 
for the rest lived farther down the street. 
Their names were Henry and James. Rosa- 
mond and Kenneth did not like them, for 
they played the same game every day, always 
soldiers, and, as each boy wanted to be cap- 
tain and carry the sword, giving orders and 
marching at the head, the others did not like 
it, and so a quarrel was the usual ending of 
their play. 

The boys liked what they called “ picnics ” 
better than anything else. This did not al- 
ways mean taking a lunch-basket and going 
into the country. It was the name that they 
gave to the sport when all the boys met at 
Rosamond’s house, and they joined in some 
romping game, such as “ burn the city.” 
When they had finished their sport, they 
reported to Rosamond’s father whether they 
had been good, if any one had called names, 


26 


THE ROSAMOND TALES. 


or had been hurt, and then he always gave 
them a few pennies to spend for soda water, 
cake, or candy. When they could not say 
that they had been good, then they never 
asked him for the money, and the picnic 
did not end in the way that they liked to 
have it. 

One day, as the boys were going home 
from school, and were about to say good-bye 
to each other, Rosamond called to his friend 
Kenneth : After luncheon, come to my 

house, and we will have a picnic. It is so 
fine a day that we must stay outside.” 

“ What kind of a picnic shall it be ? ” 
asked one of them. 

“ Make it a hay picnic in my yard,” said 
Kenneth. “ The men have been cutting the 
grass all the morning. We can rake it into 
hills, and slide on the hay.” 

To this plan the boys agreed, and each 
went home, there to leave the school-books 
and take luncheon with the family. So fast 
did they eat that their fathers could tell that 
a picnic had been planned. 



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THE LOST CHILD. 


29 


Rosamond was among the first to finish, 
although he had been tired when at school, 
and had told the teacher that he thought the 
fresh air would make him feel better. He 
never told what was not true, and it was so, 
that the warm air of the rooms at school had 
made him feel sleepy. Putting on his sailor 
hat, he ran over to Kenneth’s house, and 
rang the bell. 

“ Kenneth will be out in a short time,” 
said the maid, and he asked her to say that 
the boys would find him in Kenneth’s yard 
if they looked. 

Rosamond then went behind the house to 
the large field. Two men were busy cutting 
the grass with sharp scythes, which made a 
pleasant sound as the blades swayed through 
the tall, waving grass. Some piles of hay 
had already been formed by them, and Rosa- 
mond crawled quietly behind one of these 
mounds, so as not to be disturbed. 

As he sat there on the ground, with his 
back against the mound, he peeked around 
the corner and planned the picnic. “We 


30 


THE ROSAMOND TALES. 


will pretend that we are Indians,” said he 
to himself, “ and we must run out from 
behind these hills of hay, and bring the 
grass from the other hills over there, when 
the men are not looking. Then we will 
have one large fort. When the men find 
that we have been taking their hay, they 
will come over here and ask for it. We 
will then jump on top of the hay fort, 
with a wild shout just like Indians, and 
throw the hay at them until they leave 
our fort.” 

Rosamond sat there thinking for a long 
time. Kenneth and the other boys were 
slow, for some unknown reason. He began 
to wonder why they did not come. He be- 
came so tired waiting that he went to sleep, 
thinking about the Indians and the hay. It 
was the heat of the sun that made him so 
quiet, and he slept soundly. 

In a short time, the men came that way 
with their rakes, to gather up more hay, 
which they had left. They stood on the 
other side of the mound where Rosamond 


THE LOST CHILD. 


31 


was sleeping, and so did not see him. 
Higher and higher on this mound they 
piled the grass which they had cut, and 
each time that they threw on a handful, 
some fell over on the other side, and, as 
it did so, it covered Rosamond, until he 
could not be seen from any point. He 
made no noise, for the softly falling hay 
did not arouse him, and no one knew that 
he was asleep inside of the mound of hay. 
The men went on working, and made more 
mounds. 

At length, Kenneth had ended his lunch- 
eon. He put on his cap, and went out to 
find Rosamond in the yard, for Rosamond 
had said to meet him there. Soon the other 
boys came, and they joined in the search. 
No Rosamond could be found. Kenneth 
went back to the house, and the maid again 
told him what Rosamond had said, to 
look for him beside one of the mounds of 
hay. 

They looked with care about each pile of 
hay, but no sign of him did they see. Not 


32 


THE ROSAMOND TALES. 


even a foot stuck out to show them where 
he was sleeping. 

They took sticks, and hit the hay piles, 
thinking that he was fooling them and was 
hiding; but they did not hit the spot where 
he was sitting. Sancho, Rosamond s dog, 
saw them beating the hay, and he wanted 
to join in the sport. He thought that per- 
haps they were after a rat. 

The dog jumped about when the boys 
struck the hay, and he began scratching it 
with his paws. He knew better than they 
what was hidden there. He smelled his 
little master, and he made the hay fly in 
the air, so fast did he work his two paws. 
The boys were pleased to see the dog so 
active. They thought that perhaps there 
was a rabbit or a stray squirrel in the pile 
of hay, and they stood ready to catch it, or 
to hit it with their clubs, when they could 
tell what it was. Sancho barked as he came 
near to Rosamond’s foot, and the boys were 
wild with delight. Then there was a shout 
from beneath the hay. The voice said : 


THE LOST CHILD. 


33 


“ Get away. We are Indians, and we will 
hit you with our hay balls. We will shoot 
you. Get away. Run for your lives ! ” 

The boys were surprised to hear the 
shouts, when they had thought that a rab- 
bit or rat was there. Still more surprised 
were they to find Rosamond had been buried 
there. He jumped out and stretched him- 
self. When he saw the boys standing about 
and laughing, he said, “ I was dreaming of 
wild Indians, and I thought that I heard 
them coming. I thought that I was one of 
the Indians.” 

“Were you not hiding?” asked Kenneth. 

“ No,” said Rosamond. “ I was sitting 
there, and I must have gone to sleep. But 
how did I get covered with the hay? Did 
one of the boys do it ? ” 

Just then the men, who heard the boys 
laughing, came up. “ I guess that we did 
it,” said they. “We were piling the hay 
on this mound, but we did not suppose that 
there was an Indian hiding on the other 
side.” 


34 


THE ROSAMOND TALES. 


Rosamond said that the plan he had made 
was spoiled, for now the men knew that 
they were going to play Indians ; but he 
laughed, and soon they were sliding down 
the hills of hay, and having a fine time. 


II. 


OLD BLACK JOE. 

There was nothing that Rosamond liked 
to do so much as to go and sit in front of 
old black Joe Dragon’s shoe shop, and hear 
Joe tell his stories. Old black Joe, as the 
men and boys called him, was a nice fellow. 
He was busy mending shoes from early 
morning until late at night. As it was 
cooler outside, that was why he could be 
seen seated on a bench before his shop at 
all hours, instead of staying in one of the 
dark rooms of his small house, in the front 
part of which was the shop that he used 
on rainy days. He was as black as a coal 
in the stove; but Rosamond did not keep 
away from him because he was black, for 
Rosamond knew that he was born that way. 
It was not the kind of black that would rub 
off, and make little boys dirty. 


35 


36 THE ROSAMOND TALES. 

All the friends of Rosamond liked Joe, 
because he could tell them nicer stories than 
any one else. They were about bears, and 
how, with his big gun and bullets, he had 
shot them in the woods. Each day, after 
school was out, the little boys and girls 
would stop on their way home just for one 
minute and say: “How do you do, Joe? 
Please tell us one of your fine stories.” But 
Joe always said: “Run along home now, 
my honeys, and come to me after you have 
eaten your supper, for then I am not busy.” 
So the children would run home and play, 
wishing for the time to come when they 
could go and hear Joe tell the story. 

One day, while old black Joe was sitting 
in the sun mending some shoes, his wife 
called, “Joe, Joe Dragon, come in here. I 
want you.” Joe went into the kitchen to 
see what she wished him to do. He saw 
that his wife was making bread, so he asked, 
“What do you want me for in here?” 

“ I cannot open that big barrel of flour,” 
said she, pointing to a big barrel standing 


OLD BLACK JOE. 


37 


in the closet doorway. “ It is too heavy, 
and I cannot move it.” 

Joe went into the closet and pulled hard. 
At last he rolled the barrel out, and stood 
it up in the middle of the kitchen floor. 

“Warm work,” said Joe. “It makes me 
warm enough to stop doing more work 
to-day.” 

“Take the top off the barrel, please,” said 
Mrs. Dragon. 

Joe pulled and kicked, but the rim would 
not budge, and he became warmer and 
warmer. 

“ Take this hammer,” said Mrs. Dragon, 
“ and pound it hard.” 

Joe took the hammer, and hit the barrel 
hard to open it ; but the top would not 
move. He huffed and he puffed, and he 
wiped his face with his hands. 

“ You must open the barrel,” said Mrs. 
Dragon, “ or I cannot get the flour to make 
the bread for breakfast.” 

“ I will,” said Joe. “ I will hit it so hard 
that with one big knock it will fall apart.” 


38 


THE ROSAMOND TALES. 


Joe seized the hammer, and he lifted it 
high over his head. 

“ Now watch,” said he, and down came 
the hammer; out dashed the flour, and 
the white dust fell all over him. His face 
and his clothes were covered with the white 
flour, and he looked like a white man. 

“You are a nice-looking negro,” said 
Mrs. Dragon. “You have spoiled your 
clothes. Why did you hit so hard? See, 
they are all white, and so is your face.” 

Joe did not like to be scolded. He had 
worked hard. He walked into the parlour, 
and brushed his clothes clean, but he forgot 
to wash his face. Then he went out-doors, 
and sat down on the seat in front of the 
house again. 

Pretty soon he saw the boys coming 
along. There were Rosamond and Philip, 
Henry and James, coming to see him. It 
was getting dark. They had eaten their 
supper, and wanted to have him tell them 
a story. 

When Rosamond came near he looked at 



ROSAMOND AND SANCHO PANZA 


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OLD BLACK JOE. 


41 


the man on the seat. The man could not 
be Joe, for this one had a white face, and 
Joe was a black man. The sun had set, so 
that he could not be plainly seen. Rosa- 
mond did not know what the strange man 
was doing there, and he was about to turn 
and run away, but he thought he would first 
ask him what had become of Joe, so he said 
to the stranger, “ Why are you sitting there ? 
Where is Joe? We want to talk to old 
black Joe.” 

“ I am Joe,” said the man with the queer 
white face, “ and I will tell you all a story. 
Sit down. What shall the story be about 
to-night ? ” 

“ No,” said the boys, all at once ; “ you 
are not Joe, and we will not sit down by 
you.” 

“But I am Joe,” said the man. “ Look at 
my face and see.” 

“It is a white face,” said Rosamond. 
“ You cannot fool me.” 

Then old black Joe knew what was the 
trouble. It was the white flour that came 


42 


THE ROSAMOND TALES. 


out of the barrel and stuck to his warm 
face, that made him look white. He took 
his hand and brushed it across his face 
many times, rubbing off some of the white 
flour. 

“See there, boys,” said Joe. “I was a 
white Joe, but now I am old black Joe 
again, and I will tell you an extra nice 
story, because of the way in which I scared 
you. Nothing to be afraid of, so sit down 
about me.” 

They laughed, and sat down to listen to 
the tale, and Rosamond patted him upon 
the back, saying : “ I am glad you are not 
white, but just old black Joe, and no one 
else.” 


III. 


AT THE CIRCUS. 

Rosamond never went to school alone. 
Not that he had to have a nurse or some 
one else to take him there, for he was old 
enough to go by himself, but he liked to 
walk there with his boy friends. 

Around the corner from his house lived 
a boy whom they called Patsy. It was not 
his name, but that was what the boys called 
him. When he went to school, he always 
stopped to get Rosamond, and then they 
both would stop at the next house down 
the street to get Kenneth Gray. The three 
boys were great friends. 

Rosamond called so often to see Kenneth 
that his father told him that he must always 
stay outside the door and whistle, then Ken- 
neth would let him in ; or, if Rosamond were 


43 


44 


THE ROSAMOND TALES. 


on his way to school, he should whistle, and 
then Kenneth knew that he must hurry and 
join his friends. 

Thus it was that, while Kenneth was eat- 
ing his breakfast one morning, he heard 
Rosamond whistling as he passed the house. 
He knew the whistle well, — Who-hoo, who- 
hoo, who-hoo-a. When Kenneth heard him, 
he put down his knife and fork, folded his 
napkin in a hurry, and, taking up his school- 
books from the chair in the hall, ran outside 
to join them. He had to hurry, for the two 
boys had gone on walking; but he caught up 
to them. 

They said good-morning and strolled on, 
talking of their lessons, until turning a cor- 
ner, they saw on the high fence a picture of 
tigers, bears, camels, and elephants. 

“ What does it say over the camel ? ” asked 
Patsy, for he was the smallest, and could not 
read well. 

“ It says ‘ circus,’ ” said Rosamond. 

“ And what do those letters in blue under- 
neath say ? ” was the next question asked 


AT THE CIRCUS. 


45 


by Patsy, pointing to the big blue words 
under a camel, which had a gay load of 
persons upon its back, seated in a box 
draped with fancy cloths. 

“ That says ‘ coming,’ ” replied Rosamond. 

“ Ah ! ” said Patsy. “ A circus is coming.” 

“ Yes,” joined in Kenneth. “ We must go 
to see it when it is here.” 

They stopped a moment to look at the 
pictures, and then passed on to school more 
rapidly, in order to make up for the time 
that they had lost before the fence with its 
bright pictures. When they returned home 
that day, each asked his father for money to 
buy a circus ticket, and their fathers gave 
the money to them. Rosamond’s father 
gave him twenty-five pennies, and told him 
that, if he lost a single cent, the man at the 
circus would not sell him a ticket. For this 
reason, Rosamond put them in his pocket 
with care to drop none, then pinned the 
pocket tight, so that none could slip out. 

When the day for the circus came, the 
boys were happy. They did not have to 


46 


THE ROSAMOND TALES. 


go to school, and started off early to see 
the parade in the main streets of the city. 
They chose a good place on the sidewalk, 
and both Rosamond and Kenneth bought 
peanuts and apples to hand to the elephants 
as they passed, using some money that their 
mothers had given to them on the way, but 
Patsy would not save his apple, eating it as 
he waited for the parade to come that way. 

Soon the crowd on the sidewalk became 
larger. Not long after, they heard the band 
playing far away, and at last the sound of 
music grew louder. Then a number of boys 
ran down the middle of the street. This 
showed that the parade was only around the 
corner. 

First of all came a row of police, with 
their wooden clubs held up. Right behind 
them was the band, playing a lively tune. 
This pleased the boys, and they clapped their 
hands, as did all in the large crowd of per- 
sons who stood on steps and leaned out of 
windows. 

When the band had passed, the big red 





IN ONE OF THE OPEN CAGES WAS A MAN. 




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AT THE CIRCUS. 


49 


carts came. They were heavy, and in each 
was a live animal. Some of these cages 
were closed, but many were open so that all 
might see the curious animals. In one of 
the open cages was a man, seated on a chair 
in the midst of five bears. In his hand was 
a strong whip, to make them mind his 
orders, and he did not look afraid. They 
looked sleepy, as though they cared to sleep 
during the day and hunt at night. After 
the bears came the tiger cage, with two fine 
beasts looking out at the boys who were 
running close beside them. No doubt the 
tigers were wishing that they could eat a 
nice fat boy for dinner, but the bars of their 
cage were thick, and the boys knew that the 
animals could not get out. Then came a 
large lion. He was so big that there was 
not room in the cage for a mate, and he 
looked lonely. He moved about in his 
small den as though he wanted to get away 
and scamper across the park to the woods, 
which could be seen in the distance. 

After the cages came many little ponies. 


50 


THE ROSAMOND TALES. 


On their backs were live monkeys. Each 
one had hold of the reins, and held a small 
whip. They were dressed in fancy jackets, 
and wore funny riding-caps, with a bright 
feather sticking from the pointed top. This 
pleased Rosamond, and he was the one to 
start the cheering for the monkeys. It 
made the ponies run faster to hear so much 
noise; the monkeys looked scared, and had 
to hold on tighter, so as not to be shaken 
from the slippery backs. The people did 
not intend to frighten the monkeys, but had 
thought to please them. A few persons 
threw little sticks at the monkeys, but a 
policeman stopped such actions. 

Some zebras came next, then four camels, 
and after that a herd of elephants. Rosa- 
mond held out some peanuts to the first 
elephant, which was the smallest of the lot, 
and had the name “ Baby ” printed on his 
saddle blanket. Kenneth gave his apple to 
the next one. The last elephant was the 
largest of all. He was a fine fellow, and 
flapped his big ears to fan himself, for he 



THE HERD OF ELEPHANTS. 









AT THE CIRCUS. 


53 


found it warm walking in the rough streets 
over the entire city. 

“ Give him something to eat, Patsy,” said 
they. 

But Patsy had nothing to give, so he 
rolled up a piece of paper, which he had in 
his pocket, and placing a stone in the middle 
of it, handed the lump to the big elephant, 
whose name was “ Jake,” as could be told by 
the letters on the huge red blanket which 
covered his back. 

Jake took the paper ball with his trunk, 
and jammed it into his mouth; but he soon 
knew that it was not good to eat, and, after 
biting it, threw the ball to the ground. As 
he did so he turned and looked at Patsy, 
and no doubt said to himself, “Ah, ha! 
Young man with the big straw hat and the 
bright red ribbon, you like to play tricks. I 
can, too. If I ever see you again, look out 
for me.” 

The procession moved on. When it had 
gone the boys ran home for luncheon, and 
hurried to get back to the big lot where 


54 


THE ROSAMOND TALES. 


were the tents. On top of all the tents were 
flags, and the boys could hear the music 
inside. They found their tickets, and hand- 
ing them to the man at the door, passed 
within. 

All around the tent they walked, looking 
at the cages and the wild beasts in the 
centre, a rope keeping them from going too 
near. They saw the men feed the bears, 
watched the monkeys play, and patted the 
zebras. They did not care to go up on the 
back of the camel, and so passed on to the 
elephants. The big fellows stood in a row, 
slowly eating the hay and gazing at the 
crowd of people who pressed all around, and 
many were willing to spend their money to 
buy peanuts to give to the kind-looking 
animals. 

The big one, called Jake, saw the boys 
coming. He knew which one of the boys 
was his friend Rosamond and which was 
Kenneth, for he had taken apples from them 
in the morning. He also saw Patsy, and 
watched him closely as he drew nearer. 





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AT THE CIRCUS. 


57 


When Patsy was in front of Jake, the first 
thing that he knew was the fact that some- 
thing had hold of his arm, and was twisting 
it. Patsy could not tell Jake from any of 
the other large animals, but he thought at 
once that it must be Jake that was grabbing 
him so tightly that it pained, as his arm was 
twisted behind his back. 

He shook himself loose, and ran, crying : 
“ That old elephant has got me. Help ! ” 
Patsy dodged in and out, finally disap- 
pearing in the crowd; but the big Jake saw 
which way he went, and pulling at the rope 
which held him to a post, broke it, and 
started after poor Patsy. 

When Patsy turned to look, and saw that 
Jake was chasing him, he pushed the people 
aside, and tried to hide behind a fat woman. 

Jake did not knock any one over. With 
care he walked among the people, and 
stepped over the little boys and girls. No 
one was hurt, because of his great care. 
Straight after Patsy he walked with his 
long strides, and his eyes showed how mad 


58 


THE ROSAMOND TALES, 


he was. He snorted, and Patsy thought that 
he could hear him saying : “ I shall eat you, 
Patsy.” 

But the elephant made so much noise 
when he snorted, that he made his keeper 
wake up from his nap behind the monkey 
cage. He jumped to his feet, and picked 
up his stick with the iron hook in its end. 
Then he ran after Jake. 

He called the big animal by name. Jake 
looked. He saw the sharp stick in the 
keeper’s hand, and did not run any more. 
With a look of anger at Patsy, he stopped, 
and it was thus that little Patsy escaped 
being hurt by the angry Jake. 

The boys found Patsy sitting outside the 
tent, for they had not been able to find him 
any place inside, no matter how hard they 
looked. They asked him to go within again 
and see the circus, the riders, and the men 
who jump over the backs of the elephants ; 
but Patsy was too scared, and would not. 
He left his friends, and went home, while 
Rosamond went back with Kenneth, and he 


AT THE CIRCUS. 


59 


said, as they passed Jake, who was once 
more firmly tied to the post, “ You see, Ken- 
neth, that it is best to be kind to animals. 
Now we are happy, and Patsy has missed 
seeing the circus.” 


IV. 


THE CHILD MONKEY. 

Once upon a time there lived a monkey 
in the woods of a country far away from 
where Rosamond lived. The monkey’s 
home was built of sticks, far up in a 
tall tree. Boats sailed near these woods, 
but no one ever went ashore, save now 
and then a sailor in search of cocoanuts. 
There were better nut trees farther along 
the shore, and it was at a town near 
these woods that the ships stopped, and no 
one came from there to the woods where 
this monkey had his home. His father and 
mother were large monkeys, and they could 
walk about on their two hind legs. This 
they did when carrying anything in their 
arms, but as a rule they ran along on all 
fours. When standing erect, they looked like 


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THE CHILD MONKEY. 63 

a man and a woman when they went out in 
search of food for the family dinner, and 
returned with their arms filled with oranges, 
bananas, and a cocoanut or two. 

Now the father monkey taught their little 
one to build his bed in the tree higher up 
than their beds, because he did not want 
any man to catch him, and the little monkey 
knew that if any one came to take him 
away, he would be safe up there, as his 
father and mother would fight the men, and 
thus save him. So it was that the baby 
monkey had his bed among the small 
branches far up in the great tree. 

One day Rosamond asked his father to 
get him a little monkey to play with. He 
always spoke of a small monkey as a monk, 
or else he called him a baby monkey He 
wanted a baby monkey, one so small that 
it could not bite, and his father said that he 
would try to get one for him. Together 
they stopped at a store where birds were 
sold, but although there were many curious 
things for sale there, they could not find a 


64 


THE ROSAMOND TALES. 


monkey. It was a store that Rosamond 
liked to visit, for, besides . the fish in large 
glass bowls, there were birds of all kinds, 
parrots, squirrels, and rabbits. They spent 
some time looking at the animals, but de- 
cided not to buy any, and to wait until the 
man had a monkey for sale. He was to let 
them know when one came, and they went 
home. 

As Rosamond’s father knew that his boy 
wanted a monkey more than anything else 
that money could buy, he called upon a 
friend, who was going away on a long ocean 
voyage. He asked this friend, if he went 
to the place where the monkeys lived in the 
woods, to get one and bring it back with 
him, and to this the friend agreed. They 
said good-bye to each other, and the next 
day the friend sailed off in a large steamer 
to cross the ocean. 

When the ship stopped, it was at a place 
near where the monkeys lived. The boat 
was to stay there but a day, so the man 
went ashore and started for the woods. He 


THE CHILD MONKEY. 


65 


did not take his gun with him, because he 
wanted to catch the monkey alive, but in- 
stead he bought a few big, bright yellow 
oranges, and took them along in his pocket. 

It was a long walk to the woods, but he 
soon knew that he was on the right way to 
find what he was after, for through the for- 
est was a path that the monkeys had made 
when going daily from the brook to their 
favourite trees, where they lived. He fol- 
lowed this path, and at last hid behind a 
large tree, because he wanted the father and 
mother monkey to go out walking, and leave 
the baby monkey all alone. He thought 
that he was in time to be there before the 
monkeys started out on their morning walk, 
and he was right in this. 

He did not wait long before the two old 
monkeys climbed down the tree where their 
house was, and went off for a walk to get 
the dinner. He made no noise, and they 
did not see the man standing there. 

When the old monkeys had gone far 
away, he walked closer to the tall monkey 


66 


THE ROSAMOND TALES. 


tree and whistled three times. Then he 
waited to see what happened. The baby 
monkey poked his head out of his bed of 
leaves, and looked down. There he saw 
the man from the ship with a bright, yellow 
orange, but he did not know that tied to 
the orange was a string. The man placed 
the orange on the ground at the foot of the 
tree, and stepped back to the place that he 
had left, as though going to leave the mon- 
key alone. He did not hide, but sat there 
quietly in full sight. 

The little monkey, which this man called 
Jock, climbed down slowly, and he did not 
seem to be afraid of the man, for he had 
never seen any man before. He wanted the 
orange, and walked over to it. For a minute 
he looked at it, then picked it up, and, hold- 
ing it in his paws, bit a piece out, to taste it 
and find out whether the man had put there 
the same kind of an orange that his mother 
used to give to him. It was a better one 
than he had ever tasted, for inside of it the 
man had put a lump of sugar, and this made 


THE CHILD MONKEY. 


67 


it much sweeter when the monkey sucked it. 
He liked it, and smacked his lips many 
times. Then he gave a little grunt, or 
squeak, as much as to say, “ That’s good.” 
The man looked on from a distance, and 
was pleased. He wanted to wait until the 
monkey grew so fond of the sugar that he 
would not want to drop the orange when 
he went after him. 

When he saw how delighted the monkey 
was, he did not wait any longer. He pulled 
the string, which he had tied to the orange, 
and the little monkey would not let go. He 
tugged and pulled until he had the baby 
monkey in his arms, and then he wanted 
to run away. But it was too late, and he 
had to go along with the man to the ship. 
He kicked and tried to bite, but his teeth 
were small, and so he could not hurt the 
man, who had on a pair of thick gloves. 

The man felt a little sorry to have to take 
the monkey away from his home, but he had 
promised Rosamond’s father to bring one 
back. 


68 


THE ROSAMOND TALES. 


“You must come home with me, little 
Jock,” said the man, kindly. “ Now stop 
biting me. I am going to take you to see 
a nice little boy, called Rosamond.” The 
man knew that the monkey could not make 
out what he was saying, but he wanted to 
speak in a kind way, to have the little fellow 
become quiet. 

The monkey sucked the orange, and made 
no more noise; for this the man was glad, 
as he did not want the two big monkeys to 
hear him cry, else then they would chase 
him through the woods. 

The ship sailed again. This time for 
home. When it came to the dock and was 
tied fast, the man went ashore to find Rosa- 
mond s father. He was glad to be given so 
fine a monkey, for the little one had been 
treated so well aboard the ship that he now 
was as tame as any pet. Rosamond s 
father thanked his friend for his kindness, 
and, putting the monkey under his coat to 
keep him warm, went to his home. It did 
not require a string to hold him, for the 


THE CHILD MONKEY. 69 

little monkey was too scared in the city to 
want to leave one who was caring for him. 

When Rosamond’s father reached home 
that night, his little boy had gone to bed, so 
he could not show him the new pet which 
he had. Jocko was wide awake, and wanted 
to play, but Rosamond was fast asleep, and 
his clothes were nicely folded on a chair, 
with his shoes on the floor in front of it. 
“To-morrow, Jocko, you may play with 
Rosamond, but not now,” he said, as he tied 
the little monkey to a chair with a piece of 
string. Then he went to bed. 

But Jocko did not want to go to sleep. 
He was awake, and played with the string 
which held him to the armchair. Soon he 
had broken it, and was free to run all about 
the room. He wanted to romp, so he 
jumped upon a chair where were Rosa- 
mond’s clothes, his little blue sailor trousers, 
and a bright scarf. He first shook them 
out. What these things were, of course he 
could not tell, for they were not like those of 


men. 


70 


THE ROSAMOND TALES, 


He had seen sailors on the ship dress 
themselves, and knew that the small clothes 
must be for the same purpose. He took 
hold of them with his hands, and pulled 
the short trousers on over his own legs. 
After that he took the little white shirt, and 
slipped that on over his head. He did not 
know how to make the buttons go, but he 
did not care. When he had the stockings 
on he looked like a little boy all dressed. 

Soon Jocko began to feel tired after his 
labour, but he did not see any good place 
upon the floor to sleep. He thought that the 
floor was much harder than the bed that he 
was used to, for he would not sleep there. 
It was not like his soft bed in the trees, with 
the leaves flattened down until they were 
like a soft under blanket. He looked about 
the room, then jumped on the bottom of the 
bed. Rosamond did not wake up. He was 
asleep and dreaming about the monk that 
he wanted his father to get for him. 

Jocko then walked softly on the bed, and 
curled himself up by the side of Rosamond. 


THE CHILD MONKEY. 


71 


He liked little boys better than men, and he 
knew that he should like a small boy like 
Rosamond, because children are often more 
tender than men. This was what he was 
thinking that night, if monkeys can think at 
all. Soon he was sound asleep, and no one 
knew that he was on the bed. 

In the morning Rosamond awoke early. 
The sun was shining in at his window. He 
felt something in the bed which he did not 
know was there when he went to sleep. It 
felt like a little boy. 

Rosamond turned over to see what it was, 
and saw the blue sailor trousers and white 
shirt. 

“ A doll for me,” he said, in a whisper, so 
as not to awaken his father. “ But I do not 
play with dolls. I am far too old to care for 
such toys.” 

Little Jocko moved his arm. 

“ A live doll it is,” said Rosamond, in sur- 
prise. “ How queer ! See, it can move its 
arms about as though alive. It will amuse 
Rosalind.” 


72 


THE ROSAMOND TALES. 


Then Rosamond crawled over and looked 
at the face inside of the white shirt. He 
thought that if it were a soldier doll that 
could walk, talk, and run about, it might 
be a good toy to show to the boys. 

“ Oh, father, you have brought me a real 
monk ! ” he said. '' My baby monk has come 
at last. How glad I am ! ” and Rosamond 
clapped his hands. 

He dressed himself, and, leading his mon- 
key into the yard, took the little thing for a 
walk. The monkey soon became a great 
pet, making friends with Rosamond’s dog 
and Rosalind’s cat. In time, it was not 
afraid to eat from the same saucer with 
the cat. It grew so tame that Rosamond 
did not have to tie him with a string, unless 
he was going to be away from the yard. 
Many persons came to see the little monkey, 
and all said that it was not only the smallest 
that they had ever seen, but was the tamest. 
The children made clothes for Jocko, and, 
when dressed, he was a curious sight. 



TAKING JOCKO FOR A WALK 



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V. 


ONLY A RABBIT. 

Although Rosamond had a great many 
playthings, games, books, and pets, the ones 
he liked best, until his father bought him a 
monkey, were the rabbits. He had two of 
them. They came from an old woman, who 
lived alone in the country, and who had no 
friends save the rabbits and her chickens. 
To these she would talk when she fed them, 
and they became so tame that often both 
chickens and rabbits would walk into her 
house to pick up the crumbs about her 
table. Having had a kind mistress, the 
two rabbits were tame when she sold them 
to Rosamond for a few pennies. This she 
was glad to do, for she had a number of 
them, more than she could supply with food, 
and besides, she knew that they would have 


75 


76 


THE ROSAMOND TALES, 


a kind master, one who had more time to 
attend to them. 

One of these rabbits was pure white ; not 
a hair of any colour could be found on its 
soft back. Being white and clean-looking, 
Rosamond gave it the name of Snowball, 
and it was not long before he knew the 
name, so that when he called his pet, the 
little rabbit would run to Rosamond, and 
either get something to eat or be petted. 
He was seldom rough with them, and, when 
carrying his rabbits about, lifted them by 
the ears with care, not jerking them sud- 
denly from the ground, and this way of 
lifting them they did not mind in the 
least. 

The other rabbit was black all over; not 
a white spot could be found on him, and 
so he was called Nigger. Snowball and 
Nigger were kept in a small wooden house 
at the end of the yard. They liked their 
house, except for one reason. Under the 
floor were some rats, a large family of them, 
and they often came out of their holes in the 



SNOWBALL AND NIGGER 






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ONLY A RABBIT. 


79 


ground to nibble the pieces of bread which 
were put in the pans for the rabbits. 

Rosamond had never seen them, but he 
knew that they were there, for he saw their 
holes, and his father had said that, if he ever 
saw a rat appear, he should shoot it. He, 
also, had shown Rosamond how to hit them 
in the head with a brick, and, to be ready 
for them, the boys had piled up the stones 
at a spot where they would be handy when 
the rats came out into the yard. 

Around Snowball’s neck Rosamond had 
tied a blue ribbon, and it looked pretty 
beside the white fur. About Nigger’s neck 
was a pink ribbon, and he was always care- 
ful to treat Nigger as well as Snowball; in 
fact. Nigger was given the best of all things 
to eat, for Rosamond felt sorry that he was 
so homely a rabbit. On each ribbon was 
a small brass bell. These bells not only 
made the rabbits look pretty, but they 
made a tinkle when the rabbits jumped 
about the yard, and showed to Rosamond 
where they were when he wanted to get 


8o 


THE ROSAMOND TALES. 


them to put them in their cage for the 
night. 

One day in the spring, Rosamond was 
sent into the yard to play, so that his 
mother could have the rooms cleaned, the 
windows washed, the carpets beaten, and 
new paper pasted upon the walls inside; 
while on the outside of their house the 
painters were busy at work. His father 
wanted the house to look as good as new 
both inside and out. 

Rosamond liked to watch the men paint 
the bricks. They had many pails of paint, 
and stood on ladders while at work. Once 
he walked up to the pails which held the 
paint, and, when the men were not looking, 
dipped one of the brushes into the brown 
paint, and splashed it on the wall of his 
father’s house. The paint dripped down in 
drops, and he knew the men would blame 
him when they saw the daub, so he told 
one of them in a whisper about it, and said 
that he would not bother them again. He 
then walked down the yard to his flower 


ONLY A RABBIT. 


8l 


garden, where his father was busy planting 
seeds. 

Snowball and Nigger were running about 
the yard, nibbling the grass. Neither Rosa- 
mond, his father, nor the painters watched 
the rabbits, because they knew that the pets 
would not try to run far away from home, 
but they looked with care to see that the 
rabbits did not come near the shrubs, which 
had green buds just coming out, and of a 
kind that rabbits like to eat. 

While Rosamond and his father were 
busied at their work of planting seeds, 
neither one noticed that Snowball had gone 
up to the place where the painters were at 
work. The men were so busy that they did 
not see the rabbits playing near the paint 
pots, nor did any of them see Snowball 
standing on his hind legs by the pail, and 
then jump into it. When he jumped out, 
which he did at once, he was no longer a 
white and clean looking rabbit. He was 
a dull brown colour, and he scampered down 
to where Rosamond was sitting in a hurry. 


82 


THE ROSAMOND TALES. 


Rosamond was bending over the ground, 
putting seeds into holes as fast as he made 
them with his finger. He saw the bushes 
move near him, and so he looked up. 
There he saw this brown thing dodging 
in and out among the leaves. He knew 
that he had only two rabbits, a white and 
a black, and when he saw this strange 
brown animal, about the size of one of the 
rats which lived in the garden house, he 
screamed, “ The rat ! Oh, father, here is 
one of those big rats that you said live 
under my rabbit house! Will you not kill 
it at once?” 

“ Get a stone or brick from the walk,” said 
his father. “Hurry! Where is it?” 

They ran over to the pile of stones, and 
each picked out the largest that had been 
put into a heap to keep them out of the 
flower beds. 

“We will kill him this time,” said his 
father, “ and when he is dead the others 
will not dare stay around the place. They 
will be scared from our place by seeing 


ONLY A RABBIT. 83 

their friend dead and tied to the post by 
their hole.” 

They ran back with the stones, and looked 
for the brown thing, which had jumped be- 
hind a rose-bush. Rosamond stood on one 
side, while his father went around behind 
the bush with a pole in his hand to scare the 
thing out, so that they could throw stones 
at it. 

“ There he is,” said Rosamond, as the thing 
jumped toward him with little bounds. “ I 
am afraid he is coming to bite me, and wish 
that you would hit him with the stick.” 

His father came around to the front of the 
rose-bush, and then raised on high his long 
stick. The little brown thing stood erect on 
its hind legs. 

“ I never saw a rat do that before,” said 
Rosamond’s father. “ It is the strangest rat 
that I ever saw. It must be a tame one 
that some boy has had as a pet. Let us 
look at him before we kill him with the 
stick.” 

They walked nearer to it. The strange- 


84 


THE ROSAMOND TALES. 


looking rat did not run, nor did it seem to 
be in the least afraid. 

“ It is surely tame,” said Rosamond, as he 
walked up to it. “ See. It does not run 
away as I go closer, and I could pat it if 
I wished.” 

They both stooped down and looked at 
the thing; then Rosamond saw what the 
small brown animal was, for there was the 
little brass bell on the ribbon about his 
neck. 

“ It is one of my rabbits,” said Rosamond, 
in surprise, “ but which one I cannot tell, 
for he is covered with brown paint. It must 
have rubbed against the house, or the pot of 
brown paint.” 

When he found that it was Snowball 
which was covered with brown paint, he 
felt sorry enough to cry, but his father 
showed him how Snowball could be cleaned 
by getting some liquid from the drug store. 
His mother let them use one of her large tin 
basins, and into this they put poor Snowball, 
who struggled hard to get away. They 


ONLY A RABBIT. 


85 


bathed him in warm water, and then rubbed 
him dry; but it was many days before he 
was as white as snow again, and for weeks 
little Snowball did nothing but sit in the 
sun and lick the brown paint from his white 
fur. 


VI. 


TAMING PETS. 

On afternoons, when school-books had 
been laid aside until the next day, the boys 
usually played in the yards behind their 
houses. The circus was thought about for 
many days after it had gone. It made the 
boys take interest in animals, and circus was 
the game which they liked best. On Satur- 
day, when no one went to school, they did 
not always remain in the yards ; for, having 
the whole day to themselves, it gave them a 
chance to take long walks into the country. 
Both girls and boys went on these nice trips, 
and in the spring it was pleasant to wander 
into the woods and fields after missing the 
flowers for so long a time, to rom.p across 
the grass, visit the brook, and gather bou- 
quets of wild flowers for those at home. 

86 


TAMING PETS. 


87 


One Saturday morning some of the boys 
came to see Rosamond while he was eating 
his breakfast. They wanted him to go with 
them upon a tramp into the country, which 
was about a mile beyond where they lived. 
His father told him that he might go with 
Joe, if he had no work that needed him 
about the house. Old black Joe had been 
hired by Rosamond’s father to work every 
day in his garden, and at night he slept at 
his home. During the day Mrs. Dragon 
took care of the small house where she and 
Joe lived, and washed clothes, whereby to 
earn money. 

They ran out to the stable to find Joe, to 
ask the question. He was busy mending 
his wheelbarrow when they found him, and 
each boy, seeing Joe looked hard at work, 
was afraid that he could not go. 

“Are you busy, Joe?” asked Rosamond. 

“ This is my busiest day this week, young 
man,” replied Joe. “ I have more to do than 
usual, but I should like to please you. 
What is it that you wish? Perhaps I may 


88 


THE ROSAMOND TALES. 


help you, if there is a good reason behind 
your request.” 

“ We wanted you to take us to the brook 
which runs through the woods outside the 
city. We have the whole day to play there. 
It would give you a rest to come with us. 
Father said that if you could spare the time, 
he should be glad to have you take us ; but 
if you are so busy, it spoils all our plans.” 

The children stood silently waiting for Joe 
to answer. 

“ I am too busy to give up my work. If I 
stopped to-day, I should have twice as much 
to do the next day, then I should not do 
well ; but I can take you there.” 

“ Can you ? ” said they all, looking happier. 

“ Will it not delay your work ? ” asked 
Rosalind. 

“ No,” replied Joe. “ I am fixing the 
broken handle of this wheelbarrow so that 
I can wheel it to the brook you mean, and 
get a load of sand and gravel for the garden 
walks. The gravel, or small stones near the 
brook, is the nicest thing to use in making 



BASKET FULL OF GOOD THINGS. 







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TAMING PETS. 


91 


walks. Since the snow left, the walks have 
needed new gravel, and, as it is a long jour- 
ney, I think I shall be gone all day. I shall 
be glad to have you go with me.” 

This was news that they liked to hear, 
and Rosamond ran to the kitchen, to get 
a basket full of good things which would 
be used for their luncheon. The cook gave 
him an apple pie, some sandwiches, and 
what they all begged to have — a lobster. 
By the time that these things were ready 
the wheelbarrow had been mended, they put 
the basket on it, and the party of five started 
for the woods. 

It took a little more than twenty minutes 
to get beyond the city, to leave all houses 
behind, and find themselves with only trees 
and green fields about. As each had been 
to the brook before, it was a question who 
should go first; but Joe decided that he 
should lead the way, so as to choose a dry 
path across the fields, for while he had on 
his wading-boots, so as to be able to stand 
in the water of the stream, the others did 


92 


THE ROSAMOND TALES, 


not, and he wanted them to keep their feet 
dry. 

In going across this field they hoped to 
find a shorter way than by following the 
road. Having a wheelbarrow with them, 
it was necessary to take down some fence- 
bars ; but the boys liked jumping over 
rather than to take this trouble. In the 
centre of the field were a few trees. Joe 
explained that these were left to grow there 
so as to give shade to the cows in the mid- 
dle of the day, when the sun is the hottest. 
They looked, and saw that several cows were 
there, idly standing, chewing their cud, or 
the grass that they had partly swallowed, 
and were twisting their tails from side to 
side, to drive off the hungry flies. 

One of those animals is a bull,” re- 
marked Joe, “and people where I came 
from do say that they hate a bright red 
cloth, such as that red scarf that you are 
wearing, Rosamond.” 

“ All of us are safe,” said one of the others. 
“ I advise you to be careful, so as not to 



AT THE BROOK. 










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TAMING PETS. 


95 


attract him this way. After chasing you, 
Rosamond, he might come after us. Sup- 
pose that you go around by the road, and 
meet us at the brook.” 

Rosamond started to walk at the side of 
his friends farther from the bull, and when 
he spoke of going home, Joe said that the 
easiest way to feel safe, while in the pasture, 
was to slip off his scarlet tie and put it in 
his pocket. Rosamond said that he did not 
believe the bull could tell red from blue or 
green; but Joe told a story of the bull fights 
in Spain, how they wave a red flag to enrage 
the bull, then cruelly prick him with small 
spears, tied with gay ribbons. 

The animals did not leave the shade of 
the trees, and the boys passed on to the 
brook. Some of them wanted to eat lunch- 
eon at once, but Joe said that they should 
work or play first, so as to enjoy it more. 
He therefore told one boy to pick blue vio- 
lets, Rosamond to pick the pretty blue 
spring flower called hepatica, another to 
gather anemones, Rosalind to make a 


96 


THE ROSAMOND TALES. 


bunch of white violets, while others plucked 
the Jack-in-the-Pulpit, and the trillium, with 
its cardinal flower nodding under the three 
leaves. They were to make bunches of each 
kind, then divide the many varieties equally, 
on returning home. 

They were busy picking flowers for an 
hour, then they came back to see Joe. They 
found that he had taken the trouble to shake 
the sand from the pebbles, and he was nearly 
through with his work. “ Have you seen 
these crawfish, which live beneath the stones 
close to the shore ? ” he inquired. 

“What are the crawfish?” asked Rosa- 
mond. 

“They look like small lobsters, but they 
never grow longer than your finger,” an- 
swered Joe. 

“ Do persons eat them ? ” asked Rosalind, 
looking at one which Joe caught in the 
water, and held up to show to them. 

“They have been cooked and eaten in 
some countries, but we use them chiefly for 
fish bait.” 


TAMING PETS. 


97 


The boys went in wading, and turned 
over the stones that were just under the 
water. Although they saw many, they were 
not quick enough to catch them. 

“ You forget that a crawfish walks forward 
slowly, but, when it desires to go fast to 
escape, it paddles backward. Put a stick 
ahead to scare them, but hold the other hand 
behind.” 

They did as he said, and soon had 
caught a number, which they put into 
a pool, scooped out of the beach, to 
keep them while they ate their luncheon. 
The boys wanted to keep the crawfish at 
home. 

When they were ready to leave, Joe sug- 
gested that they place the crawfish in the 
lunch basket, upon wet leaves, which would 
keep them alive. He also said that he did 
not care to have the boys cruel to any living 
creatures, and that if they intended to keep 
the crawfish as pets, he should show them 
how to make a proper box, or aquarium, to 
keep them in. The boys were glad to hear 


98 


THE ROSAMOND TALES. 


this, and asked if they might bring other 
things, besides crawfish. 

Not only did Joe say that they might, but 
he waded slowly out to a log. The boys 
watched him to see what he was doing. All 
that he said was “Turtle,” and with his 
fingers on his lips, asked them to be quiet. 
The turtle had seen him coming. It dropped 
from the log into the water with a splash. 

“ I am so sorry that it got away,” said 
Rosamond. 

“ But only for a minute,” remarked Joe. 
“It will be mine. Just watch me. The 
turtle sinks down into the mud and believes 
that because we cannot see it, it is safe. But 
look. There are bubbles coming up. The 
turtle is where those bubbles come from. 
I will clutch a handful of mud, and the 
turtle will be in it. See,” and Joe plunged 
his arm under water, bringing up moss and 
mud, with the turtle in the midst of it. 
“ During the winter, when the brook is 
frozen, the turtles go below and sleep in the 
mud until the ice melts again,” said Joe. 


TAMING PETS. 


99 


“ This is a small one, and we will take it 
home.” 

Before they left, a large bullfrog had been 
added, and the boys wanted to catch some 
minnows and sunfish; but Joe told them 
that these would not live in a small glass 
globe with quiet water, so they did not catch 
them. He said that he should buy a few 
small goldfish for them at the store, “ for 
they live many years in a small tank of 
water, and it is good to have the aquarium in 
the room, — the water in it absorbs the impure 
air and also gives moisture.” He advised 
growing water-plants in the aquarium, telling 
them that the plants keep the water so pure 
that it would not need changing more than 
once a month. 

“ Do you have any pets ? ” asked one of 
the boys of Joe, when they reached the 
barn. 

“ Only some old brown mice,” replied Joe. 
“ r cannot keep them away from me. If you 
like my brown ones, then I will buy you a 
couple of white ones, already tame, for you 
L.ofC. 


lOO 


THE ROSAMOND TALES. 


would not have the patience to tame brown 
ones, and would not care for them. Watch.'' 

Joe struck the floor three raps with his 
shovel. At once several common mice came 
up out of a hole, and ran to the spot where 
Joe threw some corn. Each took a kernel, 
and ran off, out of sight. 

Do you like them as pets ? " asked Rosa- 
mond. 

“ They are all that I have. It was lonely 
in the stable, sitting here mending harness, 
so I grew to like the visits from the mice. I 
used to watch them run about ; but I did not 
like to have them steal my things, making 
holes in the bags of oats and corn. That is 
why I began feeding them each night at 
seven o’clock. When I am alone, they come 
close to me, and you would be surprised to 
see how often they wash their faces and 
smooth their fur. They are more careful to 
be clean than- many boys whom I know.” 

Joe took out his tools, found four panes of 
glass, and cut four sticks of wood. In the 
grooves, that he cut, he slipped the glass 


TAMING PETS. 


lOI 


panes. Then he had a box with glass sides, 
which he called an aquarium. He filled it 
with water, and into it they slid the fish, 
turtle, and large frog. They could see the 
things move about. One crawfish had a 
front claw larger on one side than the other. 
Joe said that when a crawfish lost a claw, a 
new one grew there. On the bottom of the 
aquarium Joe put white pebbles, saying that 
he should make an aquarium for each boy 
some other day, and telling them how to hold 
out a piece of raw meat to the turtle, he left 
to go down street. 

The next morning when Rosamond looked 
into his aquarium he could not see his tur- 
tle. “ It must have jumped out,” said he. 
Joe told him that a turtle could not jump, 
and that he thought he knew where it was. 
“ Inside the frog,” said he. “ I saw the 
turtle keep nipping the frog’s legs, and the 
frog no doubt became tired of such treat- 
ment.” 

They lifted the bullfrog out and felt of its 
stomach. It was soft in all places save one. 


102 


THE ROSAMOND TALES. 


and that spot felt as though there were a 
silver dollar in the frog's stomach. 

Rosamond wanted to kill the frog and get 
it out, but Joe told him that the turtle was 
now dead, for it could not breathe inside of a 
frog’s stomach, and he also said that it would 
not help matters to kill the frog. This was 
sad news, but Joe said that he had some- 
thing to show him in the stable. They went 
out, and Joe pointed to two white mice in a 
box. Rosamond was so pleased that he 
forgot about the turtle, and he thanked Joe 
for his kindness. Then he ran off to find the 
other boys, saying that he intended to tame 
all his pets and teach them to do tricks. 


VII. 


ON THE FARM. 

Early in the summer Rosamond was 
taken to his grandfather’s farm in the coun- 
try. He had studied hard all through the 
winter, and the doctor said that it would be 
a fine thing for him to get the country air to 
make him strong to study his lessons again 
in the fall. 

His grandfather lived in a small town 
some miles from the city where was Rosa- 
mond’s home, and in order to get there he 
had to go on the train. He did not travel 
alone. His father sat with him in one seat, 
his mother and Rosalind in the next one, and 
in the baggage -car he had put his dog, 
Sancho, tied with care so that he could not 
jump from the moving train. 

The place was called Brookview Farm, for 
103 


104 


THE ROSAMOND TALES. 


there was a little brook, with fish in it, near 
the house. From the piazza they could see 
the pretty stream of water curving about the 
broad field. It was a nice house, long and 
low, painted white, and with a row of tall, 
white pillars in the front. Behind the house 
were a number of barns for their carriages, 
the cows and the horses, and there were some 
smaller buildings for the sheep, pigs, and 
chickens. The smallest of all was a shed 
which had been made for Rosamond’s dog 
to sleep in, although at night Sancho liked to 
sleep under his master’s bed, to be ready 
to protect him from all harm. 

He was delighted the first night he arrived. 
Both his grandfather and grandmother were 
so pleased to see him, and at once told him 
what they should do for him the next day 
to make him happy, for they wanted their 
grandchild to have a pleasant time, as long 
as he visited them. They spent the first 
evening talking in the parlour, and the next 
morning, when Rosamond awoke, he could 
not tell at once in what strange place he 


ON THE FARM. 


105 

was. At last he thought of the barns out- 
side and of the brook, which he could see 
from his window, and he knew that he was 
in his grandfather’s house. Then he felt 
glad that all he had to do was to dress in a 
hurry and run out to play with the lambs, 
for there was no school to go to in the coun- 
try. This he did in haste, and soon he was 
running over the grass, which had sparkles 
of dew all over it. It was all new to him, 
after the long winter in the city, and he was 
happy. He was born there, and so it was as 
one of his homes. He did not expect to find 
any one out of bed at so early an hour as he, 
for it was seven o’clock, but he found that 
his grandfather had been out on the hills for 
two hours. 

“ You get up so early,” said Rosamond to 
his grandfather, “ that I wonder you do not 
go to bed after breakfast.” 

“ No,” said his grandfather, “ I am not 
sleepy. I go to bed early, at nearly the same 
time that you went to your room last night.” 

“ How queer ! ” exclaimed Rosamond. “ At 


I06 the ROSAMOND TALES, 

home, in the city, my father sometimes stays 
out with my mother nearly all night, that is, 
when they go to parties. Do you never 
have parties out here ? ” 

Oh, yes,” answered his grandfather. 
“ Sometimes. But my parties are of another 
kind. I go to fairs. I am going to one to- 
day. Your grandmother, with your father 
and mother, will be away this afternoon, and 
that is one reason why I am up so early. I 
am planning most of the work for the men 
before breakfast, so that they may be sent far 
off into the fields and know what they have 
to do before night. I have to see that when 
they have milked the cows the men do not 
go down to the brook and pour water into 
the cans, thinking to make more milk.” 

He smiled as he said this, and Rosamond 
judged that he was a nice man. He asked 
whether he might hold his grandfather’s 
hand and be taken out to the barn. To this 
his grandfather agreed, and they walked with 
care over the muddy places. 

Rosamond waited for his grandfather to 



THE FARM YARD. 




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ON THE FARM. 


109 


go into the barn first. He had been told 
how bulls chase persons, and he did not 
want to walk ahead in a strange place. It 
was darker in there, but he soon got used to 
the light, and was pleased, for there were 
many cows, each standing in her own small 
room. Through the rear door he saw a 
number of cows waiting to be milked. Some 
were nearly all white, others were red, some 
red and white, and a few were all black. He 
did not like the looks of the black ones. 

After they had visited the cows, and 
Rosamond had tasted some of the warm, 
fresh milk, they went to take a look at the 
sheep in the pasture, and Rosamond begged 
his grandfather to let him go through the 
gate and catch a small one, which he could 
pet, and to tie a ribbon around its neck. His 
grandfather said that they must hurry back 
to the breakfast -table, but that some other 
time he could pat them all he wished. Rosa- 
mond begged so hard, that his grandfather 
said he might stand in the field for a min- 
ute, and, holding tightly to his grandfather’s 


no 


THE ROSAMOND TALES. 


hand, they stood among the lambs. No 
matter how much he liked them, he was 
afraid. One or two were large, and did not 
take their eyes from off Rosamond while he 
stood near their little ones. His grandfather 
told him that he would be safe so long as he 
did not turn to run, but it was not best to 
turn the back to them for fear one might 
come up unseen and try to buck. They 
called, Cudday, Cudday,” and the lambs 
came up closer ; then Rosamond said that he 
did not care to stay longer. It was enough 
to please him on his .first visit to the sheep. 

On the way back to the house Rosamond 
said : Grandfather, I am afraid that I shall 
be lonely here this afternoon without you 
and grandmother. May I not also go to 
the fair ? ” 

No,” replied his grandfather. ''You are 
too young. It is a long ride, and you would 
get tired standing so much. When there is 
a fair nearer home I will take you, because 
you will like to see all the large cows and 
chickens which are shown for prizes. I may 



HIS GRANDFATHER S PIGS 























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ON THE FARM. 


II3 

receive a prize for my large pig. You may 
see all the things here on my farm which I 
shall see at this fair, big pigs, large cows, 
and fine chickens. I will give you some- 
thing to do while we are away, and will send 
some boys to play with you ; then while I 
am gone you will know that you are being a 
good boy and that I love you. It is the use- 
ful boy who is the happiest, and I know you 
will be proud when I return to-night and 
show me what you have done.” 

Rosamond was glad that he was to have 
some one to play with him, but he did not 
know how he should like to work, so he 
asked: “What do you want me to do?” 

“ I have a number of fine, large pigs in a 
sty over here,” said his grandfather, pointing 
to a shanty made of old boards, and whence 
they heard the grunting of a large family of 
pigs. “They must have their dinner the 
same as you do, or they will get sick. I 
shall give their breakfast to them, just before 
I drive away. You may ask the boys, who 
will be with you, to help, and so it will be 


1 14 THE ROSAMOND TALES. 

easy work. Also give them a drink of 
water. I shall leave some in a pail by the 
well.’' 

Rosamond kissed his grandfather and 
grandmother good - bye, hugged his father 
and mother as though they were going away 
on a long journey, and stood for a minute to 
watch them drive out of sight, down the 
road shaded by tall maple - trees. Then he 
turned his steps toward the house to get 
his hat. It was a large straw hat, meant 
to keep the sun from his face. 

I wish that the other boys would come,” 
said he to himself as he stood on the piazza. 
“ I do not want to go out alone.” 

Just as he said it, two boys came through 
the gate, and walked up to him. 

'‘Is this Rosamond?” asked the larger 
boy. 

“ Yes,” replied Rosamond. “ That’s my 
name. Will you tell me who both of you 
are ? ” 

“ Our names are Ben and Sam, and I am 
Sam,” said the larger. 


ON THE FARM. 


“5 


“Then I am glad to know you. Let us 
go to the pasture where the lambs are. It 
will be great fun to catch one for each of us, 
and to fasten a ribbon around their necks. 
We will choose colours, then each will know 
his lamb by the colour of the ribbon. They 
are in the pasture far up on the side of the 
hill behind the barn. But wait. First we 
must feed the pigs, in case we do not come 
back soon, for my grandfather said that I 
must take care of them while he is at the 
fair. We may not be back for a long time, 
as we have no watch to tell when to come 
home, and the pigs might starve. Then 
what would my grandfather say to me ? ” 

“ We can tell by the sun, when to come 
home,” said Ben, the younger boy, who had 
been to the country school. 

“ That may be so,” said Sam, “ but we 
must give the pigs plenty of food, — pile it 
up in mounds so that they will have enough 
for dinner and supper ; then we may stay so 
long as we wish.” This was Sam’s plan, 
and as he was the oldest they did as he said. 


Il6 THE ROSAMOND TALES. 

They gathered everything that they could 
find about the place. From the house they 
brought all the food which they found in 
pails outside the kitchen door. They did 
not know that some of this was meant for 
the chickens, and some for the cows. They 
took all of it, and Sam said that it was best 
to hurry so that the cook should not stop 
them. They poured it into the pig-pen 
through the small opening, and it made a 
high pile. Then they brought many pails of 
water, and poured it into the wooden trough. 
After they had done all this they felt happy. 

Up the hill they climbed, and jumped over 
the fences. The sheep did not know what 
they wanted there, in their pasture. They 
were not used to seeing so many boys run- 
ning amongst them, and ran down to meet 
them. When they were a few feet away, 
the lambs stood still, and each boy was 
afraid to go nearer. At last Sam caught 
one by the neck and held it, but it kicked so 
much that he let it go ; besides, he was afraid 
of its father, who was a big sheep with a 


ON THE FARM. 


I17 

black tail, and a pair of horns stood out 
from the forehead in an ugly way. 

The boys played about in this field for 
some time, and then walked back to the 
house. Rosamond’s grandfather was seated 
upon the piazza. He was quiet and did not 
look happy. 

“ What is the matter ? ” asked Rosamond. 
“ Have I been away too long ? Did I not 
feed the pigs enough to keep them from 
starving ? ” 

“ Yes. You fed the pigs all that you 
should,” said his grandfather, without a 
smile upon his face. “ You fed them too 
much. One is dead, and all are sick; more 
may die. You gave them such a great pile 
of food — I saw it heaped upon the floor — 
that they ate and ate, until they made them- 
selves sick.” 

“ I am sorry that I have been so bad a 
grandchild,” said Rosamond, crying. 

“ I am glad to hear you say so, my boy ; 
but I am not so sorry, after all, for now you 
have learned the lesson that it is always 


Il8 the ROSAMOND TALES. 

best to do as an older person says, and I am 
willing to pay a pig for the lesson.” 

“ I thought that they would know when 
to stop eating,” said Rosamond ; but his 
grandfather told him that they did not, and 
that that was why gluttons are called pigs. 


VIII. 


MAKING A GARDEN. 

Rosamond liked living in the country far 
better than in the city. There was not so 
much danger playing outside, there being 
fewer horses passing the house on the farm. 
It always made him grow stronger to live 
where he could get things to eat fresh from 
the garden, and plenty of good eggs and 
milk. Then, summer was a time when he 
had no studies, except during one hour each 
day when his mother called him inside, to 
sit quietly while she read aloud history, or 
stories of the war, to him and to his sister 
Rosalind. 

Old Joe liked it better in the country, 
because it was tiresome sitting all day sew- 
ing shoes in the city, while on the farm there 
was a chance to take long walks and see 

119 


120 


THE ROSAMOND TALES. 


more things. He was therefore glad when 
Rosamond’s father hired him, asked him to 
close his little shop in the city, and come 
with them to help the other workmen on the 
farm during the summer. 

When Rosamond was a small child, and 
many times after, he had gone to spend the 
summer with his grandparents, at their 
large house in the country. It was not far 
from the city, and his father often went into 
town and back again on the same day, to 
visit his office. He loved his grandparents 
because they cared so much for him. His 
grandfather often took him by the hand, 
when he was small, and as they strolled 
about the shady walks he would explain how 
the bees gathered honey from flowers and 
took it to the hive, or, as Rosamond called 
the place where the bees stored their honey, 
the bees’ nest. Often Rosamond would take 
his grandfather for a walk to show him his 
pigeons, his small bantam chickens, and the 
rabbits. They liked these walks, and Rosa- 
mond learned many things from what his 



ROSAMOND AND HIS GRANDFATHER 





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MAKING A GARDEN. 


123 


grandfather told to him about the farm. 
The rabbits were kept in an empty corn-crib, 
a small shed built far from the ground upon 
four posts, at the top of which were old dish- 
pans, to keep the rats from climbing up the 
posts to get at the corn, for rats like corn 
better than anything else they find about a 
farm. 

When he went there in the early spring 
the men were busy about the farm land 
planting early shoots taken from the hot- 
houses, and sowing seeds. They carried 
bags, tied to their shoulder by a cord, from 
which they took handfuls at a time and scat- 
tered the seed in the rows which had been 
dug. Rosamond went out to see how the 
work was done, and the men were glad to 
tell him all they knew, but they could not 
say, in answer to his question, why the seed 
grew when in the ground and not before. It 
was at these times that Rosamond found 
that his grandfather knew more about the 
questions that he asked than did the men 
who worked for him, and it was thus that he 


124 


THE ROSAMOND TALES. 


found out how wise it was to go to school 
when a child, for the men on the farm had 
not been able to study much after it was 
needful for them to earn a living. 

Picking up a seed one day, in the field 
where the men were sowing corn, his grand- 
father said that a person had found some 
kernels of corn and some wheat which had 
been put away in a jar three thousand years 
before, yet these seeds grew when they were 
sown. As a rule,” said his grandfather, 
the seed is not good for much after it has 
been saved many years. It is best to sow it 
the next year, to get good results. Some 
plants grow so slowly that it is one hundred 
years before they are old enough to have 
flowers, while others, like the pea or the 
morning-glory, will bear flowers within three 
or four weeks after the seed takes root and 
is growing above the ground; but the soil 
must be good, and the water poured upon 
them must be neither too much, to rot the 
seed, nor too little, or they will remain dry in 
the ground and not sprout at all. I shall 



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MAKING A GARDEN. 


127 


give a few seeds to you, and if you like to 
take care of a garden, then I shall be pleased 
to give you many. It depends on how you 
take care of your garden. I will give you 
seeds for both vegetables and flowers, so that 
you may tell me which you prefer.” 

Rosamond said that he knew that he 
cared more for flowering plants than for 
vegetables, but his grandfather said that it 
was as nice to eat one’s own vegetables as to 
smell one’s own flowers, and he advised him 
to try both. 

His grandfather took him to the garden- 
house and picked out a few packages of seed. 
He thought it best to let Rosamond plant 
them as he chose ; then he should show him 
what mistakes he had made after he had 
had his own way in all respects. Rosamond 
took the seeds, put on his overalls, and 
taking a shovel and hoe, asked Rosalind to 
come and see him start his garden. This 
she did, and they went out by the piazza. 

. “ We will sow the seeds here,” said Rosa- 
mond, “ because it will be so near to the 


128 


THE ROSAMOND TALES. 


house that I shall have little bother watch- 
ing them, for of course I shall have to pull 
up the weeds often, and I know that if they 
were far down in the field I should soon for- 
get about them. When here, I shall see 
them each day, and if I do wrong, my father 
or grandfather will surely tell me what to 
do. Besides, there is a water-spout over the 
place where I am putting the seeds in the 
ground, and this will keep the earth damp 
if I ever forget to water the plants.” 

Rosalind thought, by the way her brother 
talked, that he knew a great deal about gar- 
dening. She watched him with interest as 
he dug a hole for each seed, but just then 
Joe passed and said to him that it was more 
proper to dig up all the ground first, then, 
after making it level, drop the seeds in new 
holes. He therefore did his best to find the 
seeds ; but they were mixed in the earth by 
this time — peas, morning-glories, and pansies. 
As well as he could, he piled the seeds upon 
the piazza, then dug up the ground again. 
When all were planted he felt proud of what 


MAKING A CARDEN. 


129 


he had done, and put his garden tools away 
in the shed. 

A few weeks later, his grandfather found 
him sitting idly on the piazza, and he asked 
him to go with him for a walk to the black- 
smith shop, where he wanted to have a pad- 
lock mended. Rosamond was glad to go, and 
Rosalind was also asked to come with them. 

When they reached the shop, both children 
went inside to see the strong man make the 
bellows go, which caused the fire to blaze so 
brightly. They saw a shoe being fitted to a 
horse. First the iron half hoop was held 
against the horse’s hoof to be fitted. When 
found to be too large, or too wide at the 
ends, it was plunged beneath the coals for a 
minute, then drawn out and placed upon the 
anvil, where the blacksmith pounded it to 
suit the shape of the hoof. When he placed 
it against the hoof the horn smoked, and the 
smell was not pleasant. 

“ Does it hurt the horse to have the man 
hold the hot iron there, and also to cut the 
hoof with a sharp knife ? ” asked Rosalind. 


130 the ROSAMOND TALES. 

" That question may be answered by look- 
ing at the horse,” replied their grandfather. 
“ Always look first for an answer, before ask- 
ing a question. You see that he does not 
stir. There can be no pain. It does not 
hurt the horse any more than it does when 
you cut your nails with the scissors.” 

Just then a stranger came in, placed a 
long tin box upon a wagon, and sat down to 
await his turn. The children looked at him, 
not knowing what he had in such a queer 
box. 

When the padlock had been mended for 
Rosamond’s grandfather, the blacksmith 
turned to the stranger and said to him, 
“ What may I do for you ? It is your turn 
to be waited upon.” 

“ I collect butterflies,” said the stranger, 
“ and have broken my box in which I keep 
them. I fell from a tree, and although I 
was not hurt much, my box was injured, 
which is worse, for I think a great deal of 
what I have inside. I cannot open the 
box.” 


MAKING A GARDEN. 131 

The children thought that he was a strange 
man to care so much about butterflies as 
to climb trees to get them, and they were 
curious to see what he had inside of the box. 
For these reasons they asked to remain a 
few minutes longer, or at least until that 
box was opened. To this request their 
grandfather agreed, and they went closer to 
the man. He saw that they were curious to 
know more about his business, so he said : 
“ I earn my money by catching butterflies 
and insects. I sell them to persons who 
study them, and they learn many useful 
secrets, which in turn helps them to make 
new things in the world. Perhaps you have 
not noticed that wasps’ nest under the roof 
of this house, or that spider building its web 
in the corner of the doorway. Had you 
seen the spider before I spoke, you would 
not care to stay here to see my box fixed. 
It is making its web tighter to catch the flies 
which come in from the open air when it is 
going to rain. Have you never noticed how 
many flies come into your room when it 


132 


THE ROSAMOND TALES. 


storms during the summer? It will soon 
rain, but if you care to stay I will show you 
some queer things.” 

They agreed to stay a few minutes, and 
the man talked while he watched his box 
being mended. 

“The thread of the spider is so light in 
weight that it takes 28,000 spiders, working 
a year, to yield a single pound ; but as no 
spider could live an active life so long, it 
would take about 60,000 of them to yield a 
pound of thread. An artist has, however, 
been able to paint a picture upon a spider’s 
web, because it is so strong. It is now said 
that a use has been found for these threads, 
and that a machine draws them from a num- 
ber of spiders, and then braids the threads 
into a cord, that is light and strong. Each 
spider gives about forty feet of its thread. 
A silkworm gives a longer thread, sometimes 
so much as 1,200 feet from a single cocoon 
that the worm spins. One pound of this 
light thread from the silkworm will reach 
over 500 miles, and a thread long enough to 


MAKING A GARDEN. 


133 


reach around this world would weigh only 
about fifty pounds. 

“ I do not like to see a fly get caught in 
the spider’s web,” said Rosalind. 

“ It does seem cruel,” replied the man, 
“when you think how wonderful the fly is. 
Under each wing there are hairs which serve 
to brush the fly’s feet. When a fly rubs its 
wings it is not cleaning its body. The feet 
have to be kept clean so that the liquid may 
flow that allows the fly to walk on the ceil- 
ing, or upon glass. It is not a sticky fluid, 
however. I could tell you much more, if 
you care to listen.” 

Both children asked him to tell them some 
more facts, which the man did, while his box 
was being fixed. 

“ You have lungs within your body, by 
means of which you breathe the air ; but the 
fly has no lungs. It breathes through open- 
ings, or pores, that are like small open tubes 
all over its body, and connect with larger 
air-tubes. These open tubes in the fly’s body 
are shielded from dust by what looks like 


134 


THE ROSAMOND TALES. 


lace. We see all these things by using the 
microscope. It is said that there would be 
much more sickness if flies did not eat the 
bad matter, like bits of old meat and crumbs. 
A fly’s mouth is shaped like a pump, and it 
sips food through fine tubes. It cannot sip 
solid food, so it turns it into a liquid, like 
soup, before it swallows it. In four days a 
fly becomes fully grown. It is thought that 
a fly has 7,000 separate eyes, and that is 
why it is so hard to catch one. It can fly 
thirty feet, or across a large room, in one 
second.” 

The box was now ready, and as Rosa- 
mond’s grandfather feared rain was coming, 
he asked the gentleman to walk home with 
them, and to wait until the storm passed. 
As they walked along, he told them about 
the wasp. 

“Wasps make their nests of bits of wood 
that is worn old by the rain and wind. They 
chew it until it becomes like the soft pulp 
from which paper is made. One day I tore 
part of a nest away by accident, and the 


MAKING A GARDEN. 


135 


wasps soon -had it roofed with their neat 
paper shingles. They had never done this 
kind of work before ; but it shows that they 
are good builders to know also how to make 
repairs. They do not know what glass is, 
because they cannot see it. One time I had 
some small bottles standing in my window. 
A mother wasp laid eggs in one of them, 
then put dead spiders into the next bottle, 
thinking that when the young wasps were 
hatched so near to their food, they could get 
at it ; but they were fooled.” 

They had now reached the house. It was 
raining, and they went into the parlour. 

“ I will open my box and show you what 
I have Here, you see, are some yellow 
butterflies, which like to fly about mud pud- 
dles, and here are some large red and black 
ones, which I have just caught on the 
thistles. I put them into paper bags, until I 
have time at home to arrange them upon my 
white plaster mounts, each under a separate 
glass cover, through which no insect may 
get to destroy them. Then they look like 


136 


THE ROSAMOND TALES. 


paintings upon marble, as you see. The 
butterfly is hard and stiff, on my coming 
home, but by moisture I soften the wings 
until I can move them to take a flat shape 
without fear of breaking.’' 

He placed several, arranged as he had 
said, upon the table. All agreed that they 
had never seen such beautiful butterflies. 

I did not catch these here,” said he. 
My name is Denton, and I have many 
brothers who go far away with me to other 
countries on hunting trips for rare butter- 
flies.” 

“You are a naturalist, because you study 
things of Nature,” said the grandfather. 

“Yes,” replied the gentleman. “It is a 
nice study, but we do not like to kill the 
pretty things, and would not do so unless we 
did it for a good purpose. To do so for 
sport alone would be cruel. If we wasted 
any of them, by lack of care, and threw them 
away, it would be cruel. We catch only 
those which we need, and the air poison, 
which we use to kill them, causes no pain. 


MAKING A GARDEN. 


137 


What do you think this is under this glass ? ” 
he asked, holding up one of his white frames. 

“ A leaf,” replied Rosamond. 

“ And it is on a twig,” added Rosalind. 

“ No. It is not a leaf. It is a peculiar 
butterfly, which looks like a leaf when it 
closes its wings. When they are open, it is 
a pretty butterfly. When one of these sees 
a bird coming to eat it, it alights on a twig, 
folds its wings, and the tip touches the 
branch like the stem of a leaf. It is in this 
way that it escapes. You may see that there 
are lines on the wings that look like the 
veins of a leaf.” 

They looked at it in wonder. 

“ It is curious that certain butterflies look 
like the leaves of those trees and bushes 
amongst which they fly, while others look 
like the leaves of other trees. There are 
some which, when they see a bird, or go to 
sleep and want to be safe, alight head down- 
ward on grasses where they live, and look 
like the seed-head of that grass.” 

When they had talked about his butter- 


138 the ROSAMOND TALES. 

flies for some time, and had taken supper, 
the rain ceased, and Mr. Denton thanked 
them for their kindness. He said that he 
wanted to catch the train for his home. The 
children liked him, and Rosamond said, as 
he left ; “ I shall not catch any butterflies 
until I grow older. I should only spoil 
them without knowing how to study them, 
and this would be cruel. When I am a 
young man I shall come and see you.” 


IX. 


IN THE WOODS. 

The next morning Rosamond went out to 
see how his plants were growing. He found 
that the rain, which fell upon the roof during 
the night, had run down the tin pipe from 
the gutter so rapidly that it had bored a 
deep hole in the ground, washing out his 
finest plant. 

He was surprised to see that the flowers 
and vegetables were growing in the same 
bed of earth, so mixed that he could not tell 
his flower garden from the other. Worse 
than this, because he had not been careful 
when putting the seeds into the ground, the 
morning-glory vine, which he wanted to have 
grow upon the string tied to the piazza, was 
too far out, and close to the piazza was the 
cucumber, which is a vine that usually 


139 


140 


THE ROSAMOND TALES. 


sprawls over the ground. He was far from 
pleased. 

While he stood watching the clouds pass 
rapidly by, and looking to see if the sun 
were coming out, Joe came that way. He 
paused before Rosamond, and said, “ What 
is the matter? You look sad to-day.” 

“ I am afraid that it is going to rain, and I 
am also thinking what a miserable garden 
I have here. My father will think that I do 
not know how to care for so much as a bean 
or a pea. They are all mixed in with the 
flowers.” 

“ It is not so bad as you think,” said Joe. 
“ I can show you how to change it so that 
the flowers will be in a bed by themselves. 
Dig each one up with plenty of earth about 
the root, lay them in two rows upon the 
grass, the flowers in one row and the vege- 
tables in the other. Then make your new 
holes, and with care slip the flowers in, pack- 
ing the earth about each one firmly, then 
water them to make the earth solid again. 
That is what we call transplanting.” 


IN THE WOODS. 


141 

Rosamond started at once to' raise the 
small plants, one by one, from the earth, 
upon his trowel, or small, half • circular 
shovel. “ I shall have my garden in perfect 
order soon,” said he, “ and the next time that 
I sow seeds I shall know more about it.” 

“You made no mistake this time, how- 
ever,” was Joe’s answer, “ for some plants 
grow better when transplanted from one bed 
to another. 'The pansies will grow better if 
dug up. and planted farther apart, so that 
when larger they will just touch leaves from 
plant to plant. This is also true about the 
tomato, cabbage, and other plants, although 
not so about all.” 

“ "Why is it wise to transplant them ? ” 
asked Rosamond. “If we sow the seed, one 
by one, far enough apart at the start, it 
would save trouble, I should think. Is not 
that a good plan ? ” 

“ No,” said Joe. “Transplanting makes a 
plant grow thicker. While it is making 
a new root, or becoming used to the new 
place, the plant does not grow upward. It 


142 


THE ROSAMOND TALES. 


is best to cut off the flowers when trans- 
planting a flowering plant, because then it is 
free to send its strength into the roots 
instead of trying to bring forth flower buds.” 

On the last rainy day Rosamond had 
whittled small wooden pegs, about the size 
of a lead-pencil in thickness, and as long as 
his finger. These he had pounded into the 
earth, about two feet away from the piazza. 
From each peg he had stretched a string, 
which reached to the roof of the piazza, 
where he had tied it to a nail, and the row of 
these cords made the corner of the piazza 
look like an enclosed room. The morning- 
glory vines had started to climb up the 
cords, but were not high yet. 

“ These vines do not grow as I want them 
to do,” said Rosamond. “ They are harder to 
make mind than a young puppy.” 

In what way do you mean ? ” asked 

Joe. 

'' I have tried to make the vines grow up 
one string a few inches, then lead the little 
sprig over to the next string, so as to weave 


IN THE WOODS. 


143 


the vines in and out like the threads in a 
cloth, to make a thick wall like a sheet of 
green leaves, from which the bright flowers 
will stick out their heads, like tufts of cotton 
on a blanket. But these vines will not twist 
about the strings as I have started each one. 
I curve the green twigs, or tendrils, about 
the cord, and if I come back in a few hours, 
I find that they unbend and grow exactly the 
other way. Do you know why it is ? ” 

“ Yes,” replied Joe. “I will tell you why 
the plants act in that way. No doubt you 
have noticed how the plants kept in the 
house during the winter lean toward the 
window. They do that to reach the sun- 
light, which is like food to them, taking it 
through their leaves. All plants lean in this 
way toward the sun. The large flower of 
the sunflower turns its head always toward 
the sun. In the morning the flower looks to 
the east to see the sun rise; then keeps its 
large face toward it all day, until night 
comes, when you will find the sunflower 
facing the sun as it sets in the west. The 


144 


THE ROSAMOND TALES. 


sunflower is so large that persons noticed 
how it turns to follow the sun, and that is 
why they named it sunflower.” 

“ Do other flowers do the same thing ? ” 
asked Rosamond. 

‘‘ Nearly all do, more or less. The morn- 
ing-glory, and nearly every vine, does the 
same way. A vine turns and grows at the 
same time. The sun draws it, as though 
you held the little sprig’s tip in your hand, 
and pulled it once about the string in a 
circle, leaving it at the back when night 
comes. The plant goes on growing at night, 
and the next day the twig follows the sun 
again, until it makes another twist about 
the string. It does this always in one way, 
and no one can make a vine grow back- 
wards. Lay your watch on the ground and 
see which way the hands move. All vines 
turn in the same direction as the watch’s 
hands, so when you wish to curl a vine 
about a string, always look first to see which 
way the hands of your watch move, then 
curl the vine in that way.” 


IN THE WOODS. 


145 


“ Now that I know,” said Rosamond, “ I 
shall never make the mistake again.” 

“ I will tell you one more thing about 
flowers, and watches or clocks,” said Joe. 
“ Then I must go on. I am going to work 
in the woods this morning, and I shall not 
come home until it is time for supper. I 
could rely on the flowers to tell me the time 
if I did not carry a watch, while off at work. 
There are many plants whose flowers open 
at a certain hour, and if I knew the names 
of twelve of these, I should be able to pick 
out the twelve hours of the day. I know 
that I once saw a flower bed so planted that 
a different kind of flower opened each new 
hour ; thus in the afternoon the four-o’clocks 
open, at sunset the moonflower comes out, 
and later at night a certain kind of prim- 
rose blooms. When the sun rises in the 
morning, the chicory flowers close, and the 
morning-glory opens. Toward nine o’clock 
the pond lilies are well closed, and they 
draw themselves under water to avoid the 
sun’s heat. At noon the day - lily is wide 


146 the ROSAMOND TALES. 

open. But now I must go and get the 
oxen.” 

“ You know a great deal about flowers, 
Joe. May I go with you ? ” 

“ I do not like to take you into the woods, 
for fear you may get lost if you wander off 
while I am busy. Still, you can tell the 
way home by looking at the sun. I am 
going into what your father calls the North 
Woods, because these woods are north of 
the house. When in the woods our house 
is in the south. If in the woods in the after- 
noon, when the sun is setting in the west, you 
may know that the south, where our house 
is, will be straight ahead of you if you point 
with your right arm to the setting sun.” 

They had walked as far as the barn, and 
it was not long before Joe had thrown the 
heavy wooden yoke about the great heads of 
the pair of oxen. One was called Giant, 
because it was such a large beast. The 
other was named Samson, because it was 
so strong. 

“ Do you like to drive oxen better than 


-V 



GIANT AND SAMSON. 






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IN THE WOODS. 


149 


horses ? ” asked Rosamond. '' I think they 
are so slow.” 

But they are strong,” replied Joe. '' They 
do not mind a heavy load, if I allow them to 
rest when tired on the road. To-day I want 
to haul great logs from the forest to the 
barn. By cutting a large tree here and there 
we leave more room for the smaller trees to 
grow, when in a few years we will cut them 
to make room for the others. I bring the 
logs to the barn, using them in the buildings 
as beams, take the straight branches for 
fence rails, the smaller ones for bean and hop 
poles, and some of the wood I chop smaller, 
letting it dry all summer, to use in the fire 
on cold winter nights. None of it is wasted.” 

When they reached the North Woods 
they heard the voices of some boys, but 
could not see them until they turned a 
corner and came out near the brook. Here 
are Sam and Ben,” said Joe. 

Sam and I came here to cut whistles,” 
said Ben. ‘‘We know how to make them 
out of willow branches.” 


150 the ROSAMOND TALES, 

I wish that you would show me how to 
make whistles,” said Rosamond. “ I came 
into the woods to see Joe cut down the trees, 
but after a time I should like to make 
whistles. Joe will be here all day. He has 
brought something for luncheon.” 

Are you not afraid of the oxen ? ” asked 
Ben, getting out of the way of the two great 
animals, which swayed from side to side as 
they walked, drawing a heavy frame cart 
which snapped the dead branches it passed 
over. 

'‘No,” replied Rosamond. “See. Joe is 
not afraid to go near to them, neither do they 
scare me. I feed them every night.” As he 
said this Rosamond stepped up to their 
heads, rubbed their noses, and fed them 
some daisies. When he went to pick some 
more, they started to follow him among the 
trees, so that Joe had to run back, and cried, 
“ Gee, haw.” 

Joe found the big tree that he wanted to 
cut down. He chopped a long time on one 
side, until he had cut beyond the centre. 


IN THE WOODS, 


151 

Then he stepped behind, and after a few 
more blows of the axe, said : “ Look out, 
boys. It is going to fall on the side 
where I made the large hole in the trunk.'' 
He raised his axe, giving one more heavy 
blow. '' It is coming," said he. 

The boys ran far behind him. There was 
a groaning. The tree was bending slowly 
over. Then there was a crackling near the 
roots, and a sound like wind among the 
branches as they swept by other trees, — a 
crash, a heavy thud, a bound, and the great 
forest king lay quiet on the ground. 

Joe stepped up to it, and said, “ I can 
show you how to tell the age of this tree. 
Come closer." 

The boys seated themselves upon the 
large stump which had just been part of the 
tree’s trunk. “Do you see these lines in 
the form of circles, small ones near the centre, 
and larger rings near the outside? Each 
year the tree formed a new line. Count the 
lines and you may see how many years it 
has been making lines." 


152 


THE ROSAMOND TALES. 


The boys counted. They said that there 
were more than eighty rings. “Then this 
tree was over eighty years old,” said Joe. 
“ Each year, in the spring, the sap flowed up 
from the roots, where it was during the 
winter, and as it dried and became hard, it 
made one of the dark lines which you see. 
I must now cut some others.” 

Sam asked Rosamond to come with him 
to find willow-trees, from which they might 
cut sticks for whistles. Rosamond told Joe 
that he would return soon, and the three 
boys went on deeper into the forest. 

They could find no willows there, so they 
went where Sam led the way. He took 
them by a path near the brook, through the 
fields, and into another forest of trees ; but 
still Sam could find no willow - trees. On 
and on they went, until Rosamond did not 
know where he was. Sam said that he 
knew the way to a good place and could 
lead them back. 

They came to a place where men were 
cutting the long grass for hay. The machine 



ROSAMOND DRIVING THE MOWING-MACHINE 




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IN THE WOODS. 


155 


was drawn by two horses. Rosamond was 
told that he might drive them a short way 
along the field, so he took his seat and made 
it go. He was a trifle scared, but thought 
that it must be fine fun to do a farmer’s 
work. The grass fell in a row along one 
side. Young men, with large wooden rakes, 
followed and drew the grass into small heaps. 

Sam said that they could not stay longer, 
if they wanted to make whistles, so they 
went farther and farther until they found 
the willows. It was late in the afternoon, 
and when they turned to go home it was 
growing dark. Sam said that unless they 
found a path soon, he could not find his way 
in the woods at night. 

They did not stop to make whistles, but 
carried the branches in their hands. First to 
one side, and then another they turned. 
They came to the place where the men had 
been cutting grass, but all had gone to their 
homes. Nor could they see any light. 

“If the sun had not set so long ago,” said 
Sam, “ I could tell which way to walk, for 


156 the ROSAMOND TALES, 

the sun sets in the west, and our houses are 
to the south of the North Woods. Oh, we 
are lost ! ” 

‘'Must we stay all night in the woods?'' 
asked Ben, commencing to cry. 

“ No," replied Rosamond. “ I can help 
you." 

He ran and found a daisy. 

“Joe told me," said Rosamond, “that the 
flowers follow the sun with their flower 
heads. This growing daisy is looking 
toward where the sun set. It is facing the 
west now." With his right arm pointing, 
like the daisy, to the west, he said : “ I am 
looking to the south, where our homes are. 
Follow me." 

In a straight line they walked across the 
field, finding more daisies to lead them on 
the right path by the way the flowers leaned. 
In this way the short cut across the fields 
brought them home, and when Joe said that 
he had looked for them, Rosamond thanked 
him for telling him how to know so many 
useful things about flowers. 


X. 

BLOWING BUBBLES. 

There were many rainy days while the 
children were in the country, but the children 
did not always feel sorry to see it rain. They 
knew that to have the fruit, flowers, and veg- 
etables grow it must rain, for the trees were 
too large to be watered from a pail, or with 
a watering-pot, in the way that Rosamond 
sprinkled his flowers when they were dry. 
Besides, while they liked to play on the lawn 
and in the fields or woods, they had many 
games in their rooms which were saved for 
rainy days. As Rosamond’s mother never 
let him use these games, unless it was wet 
out of doors, he and his sister often wished 
for rain to keep them in the house. 

One morning Rosalind knocked at an 


157 


THE ROSAMOND TALES, 


158 

early hour upon his door, and said, I have 
something to tell you. It is raining.” 

“ I am glad,” answered Rosamond, from 
within his room. For many days I have 
wanted to blow bubbles, but the clay pipes 
have been put away until it rained. I will 
dress at once, and join you on the piazza. 
We will remain in a dry corner and toss the 
bubbles out, watching them sail over the 
lawn until the drops of water break them. 
While we are doing that, the water in the 
brook will be rising, and we shall have fun 
watching the freshet after the storm. We 
will throw logs into the fast running water.” 

It did not take Rosamond long to dress. 
He put on his short stockings, so that the 
rain should not splash from the piazza floor 
and dampen his clothes, while rubbers 
covered his feet. It was a way that he 
liked to dress, for he did not have to take so 
good care of his clothes. 

Please give me the pipes, mother. We 
are going to amuse ourselves on the piazza, 
and shall not get wet,” said Rosamond. 


BLOWING BUBBLES. 


159 


His mother went to the shelf, and took 
down a box. When she had taken off the 
cover, Rosamond saw that the pipes were 
carefully placed among sawdust. She laid 
them on the table. 

“ Why, mother,” exclaimed Rosalind, 
“when Joe brought those pipes from the 
store for us as his present, and we thanked 
him many times, he said, ‘ Never mind, 
children, for they cost only one cent apiece.’ 
Then why are you so careful of penny 
pipes ? ” 

“ Because I set an example which small 
persons like you and Rosamond are likely to 
follow. If you see that I am careful with 
penny pipes, you will be careful, also. If 
you learn to take good care of small things, 
mere trifles like pipes of clay, you will be 
careful of all things because of the habit. 
You surely will never break a costly thing 
by being careless, if you do as I do with 
these. It is not so much what a thing costs 
as what it is worth to a person. These 
pipes cost only a penny apiece, yet were you 


l6o the ROSAMOND TALES. 

to break one on this rainy day, when no one 
can go to the store to buy new ones, you 
would gladly give ten cents to have it good 
and whole again. Therefore, these pipes are 
worth to you more than a cent, perhaps more 
than ten cents each.’' 

Rosamond was pleased that his mother 
had told to them her reasons, and thanking 
her again, he kissed her. Then, following his 
sister, he took the pipes out and laid them on 
a table which stood on the piazza. From 
the cook they borrowed a large pan, filled it 
partly full of water, then carried it to the 
table. They also asked her for some castile 
soap, because that kind makes better bubbles 
than the more costly soap, and they knew 
that they should use a great deal of it by 
soaking it all the morning in the water. 

On the shelf of the medicine closet Rosa- 
mond found a bottle marked Glycerine.” 
His father said that he might use some of 
it, adding, Glycerine will make the water 
hold firmer when blown about a bubble, and 
it will make the colours brighter.” 


BLOWING BUBBLES. i6l 

They stirred water, glycerine, and soap in 
the pan until the suds were thick. Then 
the fun started. Each tried to make the 
larger bubble. Sometimes they were six 
and eight inches wide before they burst, the 
sides showing many colours. 

“ You know how a prism, or piece of glass 
shaped like your finger, but with three sides, 
reflects the light in colours,” said his father, 
as he stood watching them. “ The bubble’s 
side is made of a great many small prisms, 
or little mirrors, but of water instead of 
glass, and that is why you see such beauti- 
ful colours. The side looks like a part of 
a rainbow, but there is no way in which to 
make them last. The soapy water runs to 
the bottom of the bubble, and there is not 
enough soap above to hold it longer in 
shape.” 

When breakfast was ready, they had to 
leave their things for a time, but on coming 
back were glad to see that it had stopped 
raining. The heavy, dark clouds, which 
passed so near the earth that they touched 


i 62 


THE ROSAMOND TALES. 


the mountain, had gone, and the sunlight 
streamed upon the farm, drying the gravel 
walks which led from the house. The grass 
was damp, with here and there a pool, and 
worms were seen crawling about on top of 
the ground. 

Joe was passing with his wheelbarrow. 
He stopped to watch them blow some bub- 
bles, for Rosamond wanted him to be a 
judge to say which blew the larger. 

I did not think the rain would last long,” 
said Joe. “ It rained so early in the morning. 
You know that they say, ' Rain before seven, 
clear by eleven.’ Come down where I am 
working, and I will show you a bubble trick. 
They will look brighter in the sunlight than 
in the shadow of the piazza, for their sides 
throw back the sun’s light as a mirror does. 
It is dry on the gravel walk.” 

Rosamond filled a glass with soapy water, 
and both children went with him to the back 
of the house. They placed a glass of soap- 
suds water upon a bench, and, asking Joe to 
watch, began a race. They blew so fast that 



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BLOWING BUBBLES. 


165 

the bubbles burst; but trying again, Rosa- 
mond won, because he was larger, and could 
blow better than his sister. 

Joe said that he could make a new kind 
of a bubble. He was smoking his pipe, and 
taking a long breath of tobacco smoke, blew 
it through Rosamond’s clay pipe into a bub- 
ble. It was like a ball of smoke with a 
glass cover. They could see it floating far- 
ther than the other kind. It went up as far 
as the roof of the house, then over the chim- 
ney. Here it went faster than ever, and in 
a straight line upward, until it was lost to 
view in the sky. 

“ What made it go so fast above the chim- 
ney ? ” asked Rosamond. 

“ There is a fire blazing in the cook’s 
stove,” explained Joe. “The warm air al- 
ways goes upward. It passes up the chim- 
ney, and coming out at the top carries the 
bubble with it. In that way the paper bal- 
loons rise from the earth when there is a fire 
beneath them. The fire under the balloon 
heats the air inside, and, as I said, warm air 


1 66 the ROSAMOND TALES. 

always rises, so the warm air inside of a 
paper balloon tries to rise, and, in so doing, 
carries the paper cover with it. Some day I 
will show you how to cut and paste a large 
paper balloon, but now I must go to the 
brook. There is so much rain-water coming 
down the stream that it has carried away 
part of the bridge. There is a high freshet.” 

“ May we go? ” asked both children. 

I think there will be no harm,” replied 
Joe. If your mother says that you may 
go, I shall be pleased to have you come.” 

They ran off, and soon came back to say : 
'' Mother does not know whether it will be 
dangerous, but she says that you would not 
offer to take us if there was any harm.” 

Joe had placed his tools on the wheel- 
barrow by this time. He took hammers, 
nails, a saw, and a large iron bar. They 
passed out of the gate and down the road. 
Here they saw the effect of the storm. The 
low land of the field, near the brook, was 
covered by water. Rails from fences were 
floating where tall grass was growing the 


BLOWING BUBBLES. 167 

day before. It looked like a pond or lake, 
out of which the trees were growing. Rosa- 
mond wanted to get a boat, and sail over the 
field, but Joe said that he must mend the 
wooden bridge, lest it be carried off by 
the water. 

As they walked along, they saw that their 
cat was prowling by the water’s edge. “ It 
is curious,” said Joe, “that cats are so fond 
of fish, and yet are afraid of water. That 
cat is looking for fish which may have been 
washed ashore, and she is never so happy as 
when watching the fish in the water. Perr 
haps, years ago, cats lived on fish before 
men gave them homes. There must be 
some reason, that we do not know, why 
they dread water.” 

Swimming about on the pond made by 
the high water were the tame ducks. Their 
home, a small wooden shed, had been washed 
away. 

“ Why do our ducks never fly away ? ” 
asked Rosamond. “ Have their wings been 
clipped ? ” 


THE ROSAMOND TALES. 


1 68 


“No,” replied Joe. “Wild ducks and our 
tame ducks are nearly alike, but the tame 
ones, not having been scared by men for 
years, have grown used to walking or swim- 
ming, and have forgotten how to fly. The 
first wild ones caught by a man could fly 
well, but as he locked them up, they could 
not use their wings. When they had young 
ducks or goslings, the little ones did not try 
to fly, and at last tame ducks lost their 
strength, so that they cannot fly at all. They 
have forgotten how it is done.” 

They had now reached the brook. The 
water was rushing madly beneath the bridge, 
and nearly touched the beam.s. Logs were 
passing under it all the time. Rosamond 
thought that some boys farther up the 
stream were throwing these logs into the 
water. He knocked a log from the road 
into the water, and said to Joe: “While 
you are mending the bridge, I will push 
logs in to send them sailing down the brook, 
like large ships. It is fun.” 

“ A poor kind of fun,” remarked Joe. “ I 


BLOWING BUBBLES. 


169 


cannot let you do it. Those logs which you 
roll into the water here pass down the stream 
until they come to a bridge. If the water 
is high, they will get caught under it, and 
thus form a dam. Then the bridge will be 
carried away. That is wrong. We must 
not hurt some other farmer’s bridge.” 

“Then I will use only small sticks,” said 
Rosamond. “ Can the little branches do any 
harm ? ” 

“ While the water is high, they may,” 
answered Joe. “You cannot tell where a 
little twig may get caught under a bridge. 
If it sticks there, it is likely to hold back 
the next branch that comes down, then larger 
ones collect, and the dam is formed. One 
may never tell what great results may come 
from little things. I will show you how to 
have greater fun. Take this pole, with a 
hook in the end, and drag the logs ashore 
as they come down the stream. You may 
thus save our bridge, and with the logs you 
may build a log cabin for yourself.” 

Rosamond found that it was as much fun 


170 the ROSAMOND TALES. 

catching the logs, as they floated down the 
stream, as though fishing, and this time he 
learned that there was a way to work which 
amused him more than playing. 



FISHING IN THE BROOK. 






XI. 


^ ■. 


THE LOST COIN. 

When Rosamond became tired of the 
sports in the fields, with the lambs, the foals, 
the donkey and the calves, he found that 
there were other things to do to give him 
pleasure. The brook, running near the 
house, was a nice place to play, for in parts 
it was broad, yet not deep. The water 
reached only to his knees. This gave him 
a chance to wade, to row in the boat, to sail 
little ships of his own, and to fish. 

Before he had been on his grandfather’s 
farm a week he thought of the fish flashing 
their golden sides in the rushing water, and 
he wanted to draw some of them out with a 
hook and line. His father was in the city 
at the time, so he wrote to him and asked 
him if he would buy him what was needed 


•73 


174 


THE ROSAMOND TALES. 


for fishing, or send him some money to buy 
a good rod and some fancy hooks. In re- 
ply, his father sent to him two silver dollars 
in a pill-box, which was inside of a letter. 

Rosamond thought at first that his father, 
as a joke, had sent him some pills to cure 
him of his fondness for fishing, as he knew 
that his father liked to fool him in a nice 
kind of way. In the letter which came with 
the money was the advice to spend the dol- 
lars on something other than a fishing-rod, 
and to cut a pole from a willow-tree. “ By 
this means,” said his father, in the letter, 
“you will make double use of my money, 
and I like to see you do so. It is the way 
to succeed in life. I have told you what I 
should do. The money is yours, as my free 
gift, to do with as you wish; but I do not 
think that the pole that you may buy at the 
village store will be as good to fish with as 
one cut from a growing tree. The one at 
the store will be of dry wood, and so liable 
to break easily, while the willow branch, cut 
from beside the brook, will be strong and 


THE LOST COIN. 


175 


bend easily. With the money that you save 
by not buying a pole you will be able to get 
a fine basket for fish, the same as I use 
when I go fishing at the lake.” 

Rosamond thought this was a good way 
to do, and put the two silver dollars into his 
pocket in the sailor blouse he had on. Then 
he started off to find his friends, Sam and 
Ben, that they might go with him and cut 
rods. He found them feeding their chickens, 
but they were glad to leave, when they had 
finished, and go with him down to the brook 
where the willow-trees stood close to the 
water’s edge. Each boy had a jack-knife of 
his own, and they then walked until they 
came to a place up the stream where the 
best trees grew. 

In a few minutes they had cut nice stout 
poles, which served well for rods. They 
were easy to carry, long and slender, and 
just like the kind that they had seen in store 
windows, only there were no joints to allow 
them to be taken apart and put into a small 
package. With these rods under their arms 


176 


THE ROSAMOND TALES. 


they walked up the stream again toward the 
place that Ben said was a good spot to catch 
the largest fish. Ben seemed to know more 
about fish than the other boys, and so he 
walked ahead of them, as though he was the 
chief of the little band, opening the way 
through the branches of the willows which 
reached over the narrow path. As they 
walked they chatted, and found time to tie 
the long, thin strings to their poles, and to 
fasten at the ends the kind of hooks best 
suited to the size of the sunfish’s mouth. 

At last they came to the spot. It was 
a deep pool, and the water rushed by so 
rapidly that they knew if they should fall 
in the water would carry them down the 
stream. For this reason they were careful 
that they did not slip on the wet grass along 
the sides. Just over the deep pool was a 
log bridge. It had been made by a farmer, 
who had thrown it across in a rough man- 
ner, in order to reach the other part of his 
farm. It gave them a good place to stand, 
right over the brook, and they could drop 



FOR SOME TIME THE FISH DID NOT BITE. 


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THE LOST COIN. 


179 


their lines down into the rushing water 
below. 

One boy stood on each side, and Rosa- 
mond on the bridge. They were to take 
turns, but the bridge was too small to allow 
all to fish from it without tangling their 
lines. They agreed that when one felt a 
fish he was to call the others, and they 
would throw down their poles and come 
to help that one pull it safely in to the 
shore. 

For some time the fish did not bite. 
“ Perhaps they do not yet know that we are 
here,” said Ben, and when one comes, then 
he will smell the food and run around to tell 
the others that there is something good here 
to eat. If we can only catch one, then I 
know we shall soon have others, so do not 
give up hope until we have tried. This is 
a fine spot, for I know that my father said 
that fish like a place where the water runs 
fast, and where they cannot see the men 
who are fishing. Get behind the tall grasses, 
boys, and then they cannot see you.” 


l8o the ROSAMOND TALES, 

They fished for a few minutes without 
any one saying a word. Then there was 
a splash; a bright gold fin shone in the 
sunlight, and the water was quiet again. 
Rosamond pulled his pole up as fast as 
he could, but there was no fish on the end 
of the line. The other boys were looking 
on, and smiled, but they did not speak a 
word. Ben pointed to the water, as much 
as to say: “ Hurry and try again,” so Rosa- 
mond lost no time in dropping the hook into 
the water. 

The hook had not been out of sight long 
when Rosamond felt something pulling it 
hard. The strength of whatever it was 
under the water was so great that it made 
the pole bend, and he was afraid it was 
going to break. He called both boys to 
come, and cried to them : I have the big 
fellow at last. He is on my hook so well 
that he cannot get away, and all that I have 
got to do is to get him up here on the 
bridge. Then I shall take the hook out of 
his mouth and throw him ashore, so be all 


THE LOST COIN. 


l8l 

ready to get him, and keep him from flop- 
ping back into the water.” 

The boys were excited, and forgot their 
own lines, leaving the poles on the shore. 
Rosamond gave a big pull, almost enough 
to break the fine end of his pole, and the 
fish came out of the water, splashing against 
his clothes. When on the bridge, the fish 
jumped up and down so fast that Rosamond 
was afraid he was going to lose his prize, so, 
as soon as he could, he got on his knees to 
grasp the fish about its body. 

The fish was quicker than he, and, with a 
jump, it leaped off the bridge into the water, 
but the line was still leading to its mouth. 
Rosamond at once leaned over the edge to 
look for it, and as he did so he heard another 
splash. 

“ What was that, boys ? ” he asked. “ Did 
you not hear something fall into the 
water ? ” 

“ Yes ; I did,” answered Ben. “ I saw 
something that shone brightly fall from the 
bridge into the brook. It seemed to roll 


i 82 


THE ROSAMOND TALES. 


along in a queer way. Could it have been 
a fish that jumped up and fell back, or some- 
thing out of your pocket?” 

At once Rosamond thought of the two 
silver dollars in the pocket of his sailor suit. 
He had put them there just as he had started 
to go fishing, for they were the ones that 
his father had sent to him in the letter that 
morning, and he had hoped to keep them 
safely. 

My money has fallen from my pocket,” 
said he, almost before he had put his hand 
into his pocket to see if it was gone. He 
found his pocket empty, and, almost crying, 
told his friends : “ My bright silver dollars 
are down at the bottom of the brook, and 
I shall never be able to get them out, for 
the water is so deep. We cannot see the 
bottom, and it is too deep for us to 
wade.” 

The boys forgot about the fish at once, 
and left their poles to go out upon the 
bridge. 

“We are sorry for you, Rosamond, and 


THE LOST COIN. 183 

we would give you some of our money if 
we had any, but we have none. Do not cry, 
but let us see what can be done. Let us 
think. What would you do, Ben ? ” asked 
Sam. 

“ I would go home, and ask some one to 
help us get the money out of the water. 
Your grandfather might know what they 
do when they lose money in the water, for 
I have heard my father say that sometimes 
they have raised steamboats from the bot- 
tom of rivers, and saved the things which 
were in the boat.” 

“ I hate to tell my grandfather,” said Rosa- 
mond. “ He would say that I was careless, 
and, if he should tell my father, then I do 
not think that he would care to trust me 
with any more money until I grow up, and 
I do not want to wait so long before I have 
money again.” 

Just then Joe came that way. He had a 
large hay rake over his shoulder, and was on 
his way back to lunch from the fields. Ben 
knew him well, and said that he was will- 


184 ROSAMOND TALES. 

ing to call him if Rosamond did not mind. 
Rosamond said to call him, so Ben whistled 
and waved his arm until Joe saw that he 
was wanted. 

Joe came over to them as fast as he could, 
because he saw all the boys looking into the 
water as though they were scared, and he 
was afraid that some one had fallen into the 
deep pool while fishing there. As he came 
nearer, he dropped his rake and ran. 

What is the matter over there ? ” he 
asked. 

Rosamond has lost his money in the 
water, and does not know how to get it 
again,’' said Ben, pointing to the centre of 
the dark pool, where the water was running 
rapidly. 

“ Do you think that I can get it ? Can 
you get it for me ? ” he asked. 

Joe saw how sorry the boys were, and yet 
he smiled. '' Yes ; I can get it for you. It 
will be easy. There is no use in crying, and 
I am glad to see that you do not. Watch 
me.” 


THE LOST COIN. 185 

Joe threw off his coat, and pulled his large 
jack-knife out. 

“ Come with me, boys, and get some of 
the gum off of those pine-trees over there. 
I have only a few minutes to get my lunch, 
so you must help me hurry.” 

The boys did not know for what purpose 
he wanted the pitch gum of the pine-trees, 
but they gladly went along and helped to 
scrape it from the bark. When they had 
a handful, they went back to the stream. 

“ Now give me your strongest pole,” said 
Joe. Rosamond could not give him his, for 
there was a fish on the end of the line, — a 
fish that he did not care about then, — so 
Ben handed his pole to Joe. 

On the end of the handle of the pole, Joe 
spread the gum in a big ball. Some of it 
got on his hands, and made them as sticky 
as the ball of pitch. 

“ If we can see the silver dollar shining 
in the water, then I shall put this pole down 
until it touches the money, and it will stick 
to the gum.” 


i86 


THE ROSAMOND TALES, 


“ There it is,” said Rosamond. Oh, if 
you can get it, I shall be so happy.” 

Joe lowered the pole with great care until 
it hit the silver dollar. Then he slowly drew 
it up out of the water, and showed to the 
boys that the money was on the end. Then 
he brought up the other coin. Rosamond 
grasped them in his hand, and all the boys 
thanked Joe for his kind act, telling him 
that he was a bright man to get the money 
from the water. 

They had had enough fishing for that day, 
and they took up their lines. On the end 
of Rosamond’s line they found a large fish, 
probably a trout, they thought, but they de- 
cided that they did not care to keep a fish 
that had caused them so much trouble, and 
threw it back into the brook. There was 
also a fish on Sam’s line, a sunfish. It 
was too small to wish to keep, and so that 
was given liberty with the other. The boys 
then rolled up their lines, to have them ready 
for another day, and started for home. The 
money was put away until Rosamond had 


THE LOST COIN. 


187 


some good use for it, and he said to the 
boys, as they left for their homes ; “ We 
have learned many things to-day ; perhaps 
it was worth a dollar after all to have found 
a way in which to get things from the water 
when lost.” 


XIL 


THE BEAR HUNT. 

Late one afternoon Rosamond was sit- 
ting on the porch when Joe came that way 
as he went to his work. He had still to get 
the cows at the pasture, and bring them to 
the barn to be milked, before his day’s work 
ended. In his hand he carried a small pack- 
age, and Rosamond wondered why it was so 
heavy a burden, for Joe was having a hard 
time trying to carry it. When he put it 
down upon the horse-block to rest himself 
a moment, Rosamond ran down the walk 
to ask him what he had. 

“It’s bullets,” said Joe, “lead bullets; the 
kind hunters use to shoot with. The bag 
is heavy, although it is a small one.” 

“Are you going to shoot something?” 
asked Rosamond, in surprise. 

iS8 


THE BEAR HUNT. 


189 


“Yes; bears,” replied Joe. “I am going 
to hunt for some big, black bears. They 
have been killing the sheep on your grand- 
father’s farm, and I am going to shoot the 
largest one of the lot if I find him.” 

“ May I go with you ? ” asked Rosamond. 
“ Please let me go along. I can help cut 
him up and carry part of him home. You 
know that bears are heavy, are they not ? ” 

Joe smiled. He looked at Rosamond a 
moment, then he said : “ Yes, you may 
come if your father says that you may. I 
will wait here until you ask him, for I have 
to rest a time.” 

Rosamond ran into the house, and up to 
his father’s room. He found him sitting 
there alone, reading the paper. Rosamond 
waited until his father looked up, showing 
that he was ready to speak, and then he 
said : “ Father, I should like to go to the 
woods with Joe to-morrow, if you do not 
object. He is going to kill a bear v/hich 
has been eating grandfather’s sheep.” 

Rosamond’s father put the paper down on 


THE ROSAMOND TALES. 


190 

the table, thought a moment, and then he 
said, “ I am going to hunt to-morrow, also. 
You may come with me, if you wish.” 

“What are you going to get?” asked 
Rosamond. “ Will you shoot bears, too ? ” 

“ No,” replied his father, “ I am going 
with a friend to shoot foxes in the woods 
back of Johnson’s farmhouse.” 

“ I prefer to go with Joe,” replied Rosa- 
mond, “ because I want to see where Mr. 
Bruin lives. That is what Joe calls the 
largest one. I have read about him in 
books, and now I want to see his real home. 
May I go with Joe?” 

“Yes,” said his father, in reply. “But 
you must not touch his gun, and always 
stay behind when he shoots. I am glad 
that you always give a reason to explain 
why you prefer one way to another. It is 
well to have a reason for all things, and then 
one acts wisely. You may ask your mother 
to prepare two baskets of food, and tell Joe 
that you will bring some lunch for him. I 
suppose that you will be gone all day.” 


THE BEAR HUNT 


I9I 

Rosamond was glad to be able to go with 
Joe. He liked to be with him, because he 
had many stories to tell, and he also told 
him many things about the farm. 

He hurried out, and finding Joe still 
seated on the horse-block, told him that he 
was sorry he had kept him waiting so long, 
and that his father had given him his choice, 
that he was free to go with him if he wished. 
Joe told him to be at the old red bridge, 
crossing the brook, at seven o’clock, and 
when Rosamond had agreed to be there 
on time, Joe hurried off to bring the 
cows in. 

The next morning Rosamond arose early. 
The bright sunlight in his room aroused 
him from his sleep long before the meeting 
time. He dressed quickly, and, after kissing 
his mother and eating his breakfast, ran 
down to the red bridge to wait for Joe. 

It was not long before he saw him trudg- 
ing along, with a heavy load upon his back. 
It was the gun, which he carried in a leather 
case. The bullets were in a bag strapped to 


192 


THE^ ROSAMOND TALES. 


his waist, and across his back was slung a 
large game-bag. 

“Good morning,” said Joe. “It is a fine 
day to shoot bears. We can see their 
shadows on the ground if they are in the 
branches of a tree. Here are two of your 
friends to go with us, Sam and Ben. I 
brought them, for they begged hard to come, 
and I do not mind having your dog along, 
for he may smell the tracks of a bear long 
before we see one.” 

Down the road they walked for a great 
distance. They went on until all the houses 
of the village had been passed, and they 
were out in the open fields. It was not long 
before they reached the woods. The trees 
grew so thickly that it made it look darker 
under the shadow than outside, but they 
were not afraid. Joe took his gun out of 
its leather case, and put it with the bag 
behind a tree where he could find it when 
they were ready to go home, rather than 
carry the weight all the morning. The dog 
jumped about and barked, scratching at a 


THE BEAR HUNT. 


193 


hole in a root of a tall tree, and soon all 
three boys were so scared that they climbed 
up among the branches. 

“ I hope that we find Mr. Bruin,” said 
Rosamond, when he found that no bear 
came from the hole. “ We have come so 
far, that it would be a shame to go home 
without even so much as a bear’s cub. Do 
you think that we shall find one ? ” 

“Oh, yes,” replied Joe, “ I know that we 
shall. See, there are his tracks. See where 
his feet and claws have made marks in the 
earth as he walked to his home. I do not 
think that he carried any lamb with him, 
because then we should find that the grasses 
had been brushed down, as though swept by 
a broom, by the bear dragging the lamb over 
the ground. No bear could long hold his 
head up if he carried a heavy weight in his 
mouth. We can follow those marks until 
we find him. I suppose that his home is in 
a place among the rocks, where he has 
spread leaves for a soft bed, or else he may 
sleep inside of a large tree trunk that has 


194 


THE ROSAMOND TALES. 


fallen to the ground and rotted inside until 
it became hollow. Come down from the 
tree. The bear is not inside. Let us go 
on farther into the woods.” 

They walked a long time. Rosamond 
and the other boys grew tired, and then they 
sat down on a big log to eat their lunch. 

“ Hark ! ” said Rosamond. “ I hear some- 
thing stirring.” 

“ Yes, a bear, no doubt. We may be near 
his den, and he is coming home.” 

“ I am growing afraid,” said Ben. “ Sup- 
pose that he lives under this big, hollow log 
on which we are sitting?” 

“ Then I should shoot him easily. Do not 
be scared, for I do hope that we have him 
here,” said Joe, patting Ben on the shoulder. 
“ But just listen to that. The noise is nearer 
than before. Something is moving closer to 
us. We will hide behind this log, and I 
shall fire so soon as I see a body come out 
of those bushes over there,” and he pointed 
to the clump of small trees and bushes which 
were moving, as though a bear were trying 


THE BEAR HUNT. 


195 


to come out from the woods across the open 
space. 

They crouched behind the log. It was so 
large that it hid them all. Soon the bushes 
moved so much that Joe said, in a whisper, 
that he should not wait any longer. He 
lifted his gun, laid it on the top of the log, 
aimed, and fired. Bang ! The smoke raised 
about their heads. 

Some one in the bushes in front of them 
shouted : “ Stop ! We are here. You nearly 
hit us. I am Rosamond’s father, and not a 
bear.” 

Then Rosamond’s father jumped out from 
amongst the bushes. He said that he was 
about to shoot at the log, where the boys 
and Joe were hiding, when Joe fired, for he 
had seen something hidden behind it, which 
was true, for Rosamond and Joe had been 
sticking their heads around each end of the 
log He also said that he had thought Joe’s 
dark head was some kind of an animal, per- 
haps a bear or a fox, and in another moment 
he should have fired at it. 


196 the ROSAMOND TALES. 

Rosamond’s father said that he did not 
intend to try and find any bears to shoot 
that day, because he had been scared by the 
narrow escape that they had had, but he said 
that Rosamond might go on with Joe if the 
others wished to hunt. He then placed his 
gun over his shoulder, and started on the 
road leading homeward. Joe decided not 
to look for bears, but said that, if he saw 
any footprints of a bear, he should go in 
search of it. One party of men went ahead, 
while Joe and the three boys w^alked a little 
distance behind. 

As they were passing through a dark part 
of the woods, the boys were stopped sud- 
denly by Joe, who said: “Hark! Do you 
not hear a noise?” 

It sounded like some one pounding the 
tree near them. It was a loud, clear noise, 
yet they could see nothing to make the 
sound, and this alarmed the boys. “ It 
may be the bear,” said Sam, “ and if it is, 
it will not escape, for Joe shoots so well 
that he will surely hit it.” 


THE BEAR HUNT. 


197 


The boys came close to Joe, as though 
they expected him to take them all up in 
his arms, and carry them away on a run, 
in case the bear came after them from out 
of the dark woods. The noise was still 
heard, and so distinctly that they knew it 
was not far off. At last Joe said: “ I know 
what it is.” 

“A bear or a fox? ” asked Rosamond. 

“Neither one nor the other,” said Joe. 
“What you hear is only a bird called a 
woodpecker. The bird clings to the bark 
on the side of a tree, and, with its sharp 
bill, pecks at the wood until, using its beak 
as a shoemaker’s punch, it has made a deep 
hole.” 

“ What does it make a hole for ? Does it 
use it as a nest ? ” asked Sam. 

“ No,” replied Joe. “ It uses the hole as 
a place to store its food, as a squirrel does 
to hide its nuts, or as a dog places its bones 
in a hole in the ground and covers them 
up, to use when no bones are to be found. 
Some persons believe that the woodpecker. 


198 the ROSAMOND TALES. 

after making a hole in a tree, drops worms 
inside, and then inserts a nut or piece of 
wood as a cork to keep them in. It is said 
that they carry old acorns to the hole, and, 
as the acorn is filled with small worms, these 
grow larger in time, and cannot get out after 
the bird has corked the hole; thus, when 
winter comes, there will be a fine lot of fat 
worms ready for him to eat.” 

They watched the woodpecker for a few 
minutes. It pecked at the bark rapidly, and 
did not notice the boys. There were many 
of these holes, and, on looking closely at 
them, they saw that they were several 
inches deep, and round. Then they passed 
on. 

As they walked, Rosamond asked Joe if 
the nuts placed in holes by squirrels ever 
grew, taking root, as though planted by a 
man, and to this Joe replied: “That is one 
of the ways of nature to spread trees all 
about the country, for, if the nuts grew 
directly under the tree from which they 
fell, the trees would grow too closely to- 


THE BEAR HUNT. 


199 


gether, and there would not be room for 
so many. The squirrel carries the nuts to 
a distant place, often putting them in holes 
in the ground, as well as in holes of a tree, 
and often a nut takes root, growing into a 
large tree to take the place of those that die 
of old age, or are blown down.” 

“ Is this the only way in which seeds are 
spread?” asked Ben. 

“There are many ways,” replied Joe, “by 
which seeds are planted far from the place 
where they were formed on flowers. The 
seeds of the witch-hazel are shot into the air 
for thirty feet, so that none grows near the 
place where they were formed. This is 
done by the sides of the dry fruit pressing 
harder and harder against each smooth seed, 
as they grow riper, till the fruit bursts open, 
and, on suddenly releasing the seeds, they 
are shot away in the same manner as a boy 
at school shoots an apple seed across a 
room.” 

The children thought this a strange way 
for seeds to plant themselves at places 


200 


THE ROSAMOND TALES. 


where there was room, and while walking 
along, Joe continued to tell them a few more 
facts about seeds. 

There is a seed, of the bur reed, which 
has a lining like cork, which floats the seed 
upon the water until it is blown far away 
across a pond to a new spot in which to 
grow, and when the corky part rots, the seed 
is not held on the surface of the water and 
drops to the place where it takes root. 
Some of the pondweeds have a part of the 
seed which will stand upward to act as 
a sail, and thus are blown a long distance. 
Seeds of the cranberries contain a quantity 
of air that floats the seed on the water. 
Nuts of the basswood remain with a twig, 
and as they fall from the tree when the snow 
is on the ground, they use the flat twig as a 
sleigh, and are blown over the surface of the 
snow as were the seeds of the milkweed 
blown over the water in summer. 

“ Another way for seeds to travel is by 
floating in the air, as do the dandelion seeds, 
and it is curious that if there is no wind 


THE BEAR HUNT. 


201 


to blow the feathered seeds, the moist air 
closes the outer scales at night, and the 
feathery tips are protected until the next 
day, to await the breeze which will carry 
them on a journey across a field. Some- 
times a weed will send its roots through 
a potato or other vegetable, and then when 
the potato is carried away to be planted 
elsewhere, this little shoot goes along and 
takes root also. The seed of the bloodroot 
has a soft bunch at the end which the ants 
may easily grasp to carry it to their house, 
and as they care to eat only this tip, the seed 
is not hurt, and is thus taken on a journey 
to a new spot to grow. The burdock has 
a seed that will catch on to the wool of 
sheep, and be carried for a time, then falling 
to the ground, grow into plants far from 
where they started. A few plants have 
seeds with sticky sides, and these adhere to 
an animal until the gummy seed becomes 
dry and the seed drops off.” 

“ Why do the seeds move from one place 
to another?” asked all the boys. “Would 


202 


THE ROSAMOND TALES. 


it not be as well to grow near the mother 
plant ? ” 

No,” replied Joe, “when plants or weeds 
grow a long time in one place they use up 
the food of the soil from which they get 
their strength, and would grow into finer 
plants in new places. After a certain kind 
of plant or tree has grown a long time in 
a place, the bugs gather there to feed on 
them, and thus by the new seed starting 
far away, it escapes these bugs and any sick- 
ness of the plants of that place. It is the 
way nature has to deal with those things 
which are more helpless than persons or 
animals.” 

They had become so interested in what 
Joe had been telling them that they did 
not notice how Sancho was jumping about, 
smelling of the ground, and uttering short 
barks. They were now on the main road, 
but some distance from their homes. Goinof 
closer to the dog, they saw what attracted 
his attention. In the dust of the road they 
saw big, flat marks, with five points at one 





THE 


BEAR SITTING ON THE CHAIR 



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THE BEAR HUNT. 


205 


side of each of these marks, and these round 
places were found along the road in the 
same manner as the footprints of a person. 
“ These are the marks of a bear’s foot,” said 
Joe. 

The boys gathered about him, and looked 
at the footprints. “We will catch the bear 
after all,” exclaimed Sam with delight. “ Let 
us hurry.” 

On turning the corner of the road, they 
beheld a crowd of persons, but could not tell 
from a distance at what they were looking. 

“ It may be that father has shot a bear 
without our hearing the noise,” said Rosa- 
mond, “ and those persons are helping him 
to cut it up, or are carrying it with him.” 

It took some time to catch up to this 
crowd, and, when nearer, the boys saw that 
there was a bear walking with the men. 
They did not know how they were able to 
lead a wild bear along so quietly, but when 
they had caught up with the other party, 
they saw that the bear was a tame one, and 
was being led by an Italian or a Frenchman. 


206 


THE ROSAMOND TALES, 


This man held a rope in his hand, and a 
stout stick in the other. The rope was tied 
to a leather strap, which formed a cage 
about the bears mouth, like the muzzle on 
a dog, only this one was larger. 

The bear was an immense animal, with 
a shaggy brown fur. It could not bite any 
one, because of the muzzle, but Joe warned 
Rosamond to keep his dog away, for al- 
though the bear might not bite, it could 
squeeze the dog badly with its large arms. 
As the boys came up, the man with the bear 
turned into Rosamond’s yard. Joe and the 
rest followed. 

The man said that his bear would perform 
tricks if given some money, so he was given 
a few pennies, and Joe brought out a chair 
from the kitchen, upon which the bear sat, 
as though resting after a long walk. He 
grunted and growled a little, as though ex- 
pected to say something nice on making a 
call, but he seemed sad. Then he was made 
to dance. The man said that his bear was 
so tame that he was not afraid at night to 



THE BEAR DANCING. 



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THE BEAR HUNT. 


209 


sleep with him in a barn, and would bite 
no boy, were his muzzle off, unless teased. 
After man and bear bowed in thanks for 
the money, they left, and went down the 
road to the next house, a crowd of small 
boys following behind. 


XIII. 


THE LOST LAMB. 

Not many weeks after Rosamond had 
gone into the country, he asked his father 
to get him some kind of a live pet. He said 
that he did not care what kind his father 
picked out, for he thought that he should 
be pleased with a lamb, a small pig, a calf, 
chickens, or a pony. His father said that 
a pony might hurt him if it was not well- 
behaved; that a calf would have to stay 
with its mother until too large to be used 
as a pet, and so he thought it best to have 
a lamb. 

This pleased Rosamond, and he said that 
his sister would also enjoy a gentle animal 
like a lamb, which had become tame by liv- 
ing near a farmer’s house. It was not long 
before he had a name for it, but his father 


210 


THE LOST LAMB. 


21 1 


said that it might take a long time to find 
just the kind of a lamb which he wanted, 
neither too young to leave its mother, nor 
too large. They went out to the barn in 
search of Joe, and his father said that he 
wanted Joe to keep his eyes open for one, 
and that when it was found, they would 
go and see whether it was a nice one. 

They found Joe feeding the pigs, and 
Rosamond’s father said to him; “Joe, I 
want you to go to the Brown farm after 
butter in the morning, and when there see 
if he has a small lamb which he wants to 
sell. If he has not, then, when you go 
to see Jones about some more cows, I want 
you to ask him the same question. Keep 
on looking until you find the best on any 
of the farms about here. It must be small, 
have plenty of white wool, and with no 
horns. I will pay two dollars for a nice 
one, and I want you to be sure to treat it 
well. Put it in your cart, for it may not 
be able to walk far, and dogs might run 
out to bite it while on your way home.” 


212 


THE ROSAMOND TALES. 


Joe said that he knew just what was 
wanted, and that he should start early in 
the morning to go to see Farmer Brown, 
if it did not rain. This was good news for 
Rosamond, and he ran to find Rosalind, to 
tell her how good his father had been. He 
was told by his father to ask her which she 
wanted, a kitten, or some pigeons, for he 
wanted to make her a present, also. 

At noon the next day Joe came back from 
Farmer Brown’s, carrying a small lamb in 
his cart. “ I did not have a hard time find- 
ing one,” said he to Rosamond. “ Farmer 
Brown had three or four, and from them 
I picked out the nicest. I think that you 
will like it.” 

The lamb that he had brought was a fine 
little fellow, with long, shaggy wool, but it 
was rather dirty. It looked about, as 
though it missed its mother ; but when 
Rosamond leaned down and called it, the 
lamb came to him, and he fed it with some 
biscuits. 

“ You must take it to the brook and wash 



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THE LOST LAMB. 


215 


it,” said Rosamond’s father, “ I do not be- 
lieve that it will be fun for the lamb, and it 
may not like you for treating him so on the 
first day; but he must get used to a bath, 
then he will not mind it so much when he 
grows older, and we have him washed to cut 
his wool off for the market. If he is to stay 
near the house we want him to look clean.” 

Joe tied a string to the lamb’s neck and 
led him down the road, Rosamond walking 
by his side, anxious to see the bath given ; 
but not willing to hold the lamb in the 
water. At the brook the lamb struggled to 
get away. He refused to walk in, and they 
had to hold him by the neck, Rosamond 
keeping the string in his hand and Joe 
throwing the water over the lamb’s back 
with some old cloths. The dirty water 
trickled down the sides of the lamb in 
streams, and soon the bath was over. Joe 
squeezed the water out, and when they had 
taken him home, the sun made the wool dry 
before long. 

The lamb and Sancho soon became good 


2I6 


THE ROSAMOND TALES. 


friends. The dog wanted to play with him, 
but Dick, as Rosamond called his lamb, did 
not always care to have the dog jump at 
him. At other times Dick would walk up 
to Sancho and get him to play on the lawn, 
and when Dick was not tied to the post near 
the maple-tree, they had good times romping 
about. 

One day the lamb got loose, and, seeing 
other lambs on the side of the hill, walked 
up there to feed with them, when no one 
was looking. When Rosamond came back 
from a walk to gather flowers for the table, 
he found that Dick had gone off. He won- 
dered where he had gone, and looked in the 
barn and all about the place. He glanced 
toward the field on the hill’s side, but the 
flock of sheep had gone farther up and into 
the woods, so he could see nothing of them, 
nor did he think that Dick had crossed the 
railway tracks and gone so far away from 
his home. 

He found Joe at the well, drawing water 
up in the bucket for the laundry, and he said 



ROSAMOND AND DICK 



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THE LOST LAMB. 


219 


that SO soon as he had done all his work 
about the house he would be willing to go 
up Crow Hill in search of the lamb, for 
he had some work to do up there, — the 
fences needed repairs. 

In a few minutes both started for a long 
tramp across the grain-field by a side path, 
so as not to tread it down, and up the steep 
mountainside. They took Sancho along, 
because Joe said that a dog could find the 
sheep much quicker than they, as his nose 
would detect the path they had taken. Rosa- 
mond called “ Dick ” many times, so that 
the dog should know what was wanted, and 
Sancho at once commenced to smell of the 
ground. At the house near the railway 
tracks, which they had to cross over, they 
stopped to get Rosamond’s friend Sam, and 
a little farther along the same road they met 
Ben, so that they formed a nice party of 
searchers. 

It was a warm day, and for that reason 
Joe advised them to walk slowly. After 
they had passed beyond the wheat-field, they 


220 


THE ROSAMOND TALES. 


came to the path which led up the moun- 
tain, and it was so steep in places that they 
could not stand upright, but instead were 
forced to lean over, grasping the branches 
of trees and shrubs to keep from sliding on 
the rocks, made slippery by the needle-like 
leaves from the pine-trees. Joe used a long 
club to help him, and each of the boys soon 
did the same. 

Often they paused to rest, sitting on the 
fallen trees, and at these stops they picked 
the wintergreen leaves to chew. They 
wanted water to drink, and these leaves 
helped them by keeping their mouths from 
drying. Joe told them that, when they 
reached the top of the mountain, and had 
passed down the other side a little distance, 
they should find a spring, from which they 
might drink if the stream were not dry. 

So busy were they climbing the steep path 
that, in the darkness of the woods, they did 
not notice that the clouds were growing 
darker; but when they reached the opening 
on top of the mountain, Joe pointed to a 


THE LOST LAMB, 


221 


dark cloud, and said that a severe storm was 
sure to follow the great heat of the day. 
'' The warmer and more sultry the day,’' said 
he, “ the more severe will be the storm which 
comes after. It may cool the air.” 

But it is far from cool now,” said Rosa- 
mond, using his large straw hat to fan his 
face. “ I wish that we might have a drink.” 

Joe led him to a part of the hill where the 
ground was damp, and told the boys that 
that was the place which the spring of fresh 
water made wet. It was muddy, and the 
boys did not care to go there, nor did they 
see any pool deep enough to drink from. 

But I see no way to drink,” said Sam. 

‘'Watch the dog,” said Joe. “He will 
teach you a lesson.” 

Sancho was busy scratching the wet 
ground with his paws. Soon he had a 
small hole formed in the muddy earth. In 
a minute the water filled the hole, and the 
dog had plenty to drink. 

“We can do the same thing,” said Joe, 
and he took his club and dug two small 


222 


THE ROSAMOND TALES. 


ditches, coming to a point like the letter 
V, at a hole about six inches square and 
as deep. It was just deep enough to allow 
the china cup to be dipped down into it. 
When it was large enough to suit him, he 
drew out his stick and stood one side. 

“ This small hole looks too muddy to sup- 
ply good drinking-water, does it not ? asked 
Joe. “Wait a minute, and see how clean 
it becomes. The fresh water runs down the 
small canals, and crowds out the dirty 
water in our little well, and then it can be 
used.’' 

This was what did happen, and the boys 
praised Joe for knowing how to get clean 
water from muddy ground. After each boy 
had had his drink, Joe said that it would be 
wise to look for the lamb at once, for the 
storm was coming fast toward the mountain. 
It was far darker than when they had come 
there, and every minute there was a flash of 
lightning, followed by thunder, for the light 
travels faster than the noise, and is seen 
first, the noise being heard after the- flash. 


THE LOST LAMB. 


223 


although both start from the same place at 
once. None of the boys was scared, but 
they did not care to get wet, and walking 
down the mountain would not be so easy 
when the ground was damp and slippery. 

Nowhere could they see the sheep. They 
could see all about the fields on the side of 
the mountain, on the top of which they 
stood, by gazing over the tops of the trees 
far below them. Joe thought that it was 
best to go again into the woods and look in 
the way the dog ran. It was now beginning 
to rain a little. Drops fell on the trees, 
making a loud sound ; but they did not give 
up the search. Darker and darker it grew, 
until it was hard to see where they were 
walking, and the path had been left behind. 
It was so dark that they often fell, and if 
Rosamond had not liked his lamb so much 
he would have asked to be taken home at 
once. It was now after the supper hour, 
and Joe said that the persons at home would 
be scared if they did not return soon, so he 
told them that if any boy found the path he 


224 ROSAMOND TALES. 

should cry out “ Found,” when they would 
give up the search and start for home. 

While in search of the mountain path 
Sancho came bounding their way and ran 
off again. Joe knew then that the lamb had 
been found. Dick was not with the other 
sheep, but was caught in the thick bushes. 
The dog had found what they had been 
looking for, and they stopped long enough 
to pat Sancho’s head. Then Joe tied a 
string to Dick’s neck to lead him. 

“ If your dog is so clever as to find Dick,” 
said Joe, “perhaps he will also show us the 
way out of the woods, for I confess that I 
am lost. It would be a sad thing to have 
to stay in these dark woods all night, getting 
wet and scaring the family. I have no idea 
which way to turn. There is no sun nor 
any light to guide me ; but I know which is 
the top and which is the bottom of the 
mountain, and that is all. The only way is 
to walk down to the fields at the foot of the 
mountain and then find a road in the dark, 
if we can, which will lead us to the house.” 


THE LOST LAMB. 


225 


It was now pouring hard. The lightning 
flashed, showing nothing but trees about 
them, and no path. In the gloom all the 
boys felt like crying, but each was afraid to 
scare the other. Had Joe known the way 
they would not have cared so much, but to 
be told that they were lost gave them a 
fright. 

“ There is only one way to get home 
safely,” said Joe, “and that is to trust 
Sancho. If he can do this we will be home 
without any danger.” He whistled to the 
dog and said, “ Sancho, go home, take us to 
our home — home. Do you know what we 
mean? Home. Take us there, good 
dog.” 

They could not see ten feet ahead, but 
they could hear the dry, dead branches break 
as the dog ran in front. Sometimes he 
whined, which was a means to lead them 
on. By following him they reached the 
field at last ; but on what part of the moun- 
tain they could not tell, for it was as dark as 
at midnight. They made better progress 


226 


THE ROSAMOND TALES. 


now, but suddenly Joe said, “There is one 
danger — the railway tracks. If we get 
across safely, there will be no more trouble, 
but I confess that the rain beats in the face 
so that I cannot see to take you over safely. 
I cannot tell where they are until we are 
upon them ; but Sancho is our good leader, 
and where he goes w'e will follow. He is a 
fine dog, Rosamond.” 

Just as he stopped speaking, a strong 
light burst upon them. There was no 
whistle, because they were not at a road 
crossing ; but all knew that the light came 
from the fast express. 

“ Run across quickly,” said Sam. “ Let 
us run for our lives, for the train is upon 
us.” 

“ Come back here,” said Joe. “We can- 
not cross in time,” and he seized Rosamond 
by the hand, holding him back, and Rosa- 
mond kept a tight hold of the others. 

“ Perhaps Sancho did not see the en- 
gine coming,” said Rosamond, as the train 
rushed madly by them, not ten feet away. 


THE LOST LAMB. 


227 


“ I hope that nothing has happened to my 
dog.” 

But something bad did occur. Sancho 
had not been able to tell in which way the 
train was about to round the curve. He 
was standing on the track when the express 
passed. 

A low moan attracted their attention. 

“ My dog has been killed ! ” exclaimed 
R.osamond. “ Oh, my dog is dead ! ” 

They went to the spot where they heard 
the poor dog moaning. With tender hands 
they raised him up. He was not dead, but 
had been cut by the engine when it knocked 
him from the track. They tried hard to get 
the dog to stand upon his feet, but Sancho 
could not. His leg seemed to have been 
broken. Joe lifted him up, and although he 
was heavy and it was dark, he did not mind 
his burden. No one talked as they walked 
on the road toward home. 

There was gladness when the party came 
back, but it was turned to sorrow when they 
saw that the dog had been hurt so badly. 


228 


THE ROSAMOND TALES. 


Rosamond’s father called a doctor at once, 
who bound up the wound, and when Sancho 
was again well he was given a fine collar 
with his name upon it. Every one liked 
the dog much better after that day, and was 
proud to be his friend. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

THE FISHING -POOL. 

One morning, after Rosamond had taken 
breakfast, he asked his father if he might 
go fishing. He said that it was stupid play- 
ing fish on the piazza, because there was 
nothing alive on the lawn that cared to bite 
the worm on his hook, and he thought that 
it was cruel to use a worm in such a way ; 
besides, it would not be fishing if he did 
not use a worm. 

To this request his father replied that he 
could go if some older person went along. 
“ I do not like to take Joe away from his 
work to go fishing,” said his father ; “ but 
if he can find some useful thing to do down 
near the brook, he may go with you.” 

This pleased Rosamond, so he ran off to 

229 


2 30 


THE ROSAMOND TALES. 


find Joe. He called loudly, but the first 
person to answer was Rosalind. 

What do you want ? asked she, coming 
down the side steps. 

I am going to the brook to fish,” said 
Rosamond, “ and father says that some one 
must go with me.” 

I will gladly go. May I ? ” 

You may go, also, but some one who can 
swim must go with us.” 

Just then Joe came from the wood-house 
with a large basket. 

'‘What are you going to do, Joe? Can 
you go down to the brook with us ? ” 

“ I am on my way to the lower farm to 
gather early apples,” said Joe. 

By the lower farm, Joe meant the pasture 
in the low land near the brook. Apple-trees 
grew in rows across the field. The trees 
were so near to the fishing-pool that Joe 
could hear a child if in trouble. 

Rosamond ran to the spot where he always 
kept a can filled with worms and earth thrown 
over them, ever ready to take on a fishing 


THE FTSHING-POOL. 


231 


trip like this. He also took his pole, and 
stopped long enough at the kitchen window 
to allow Bridget to cut four slices of bread, 
to serve as their luncheon. 

“Joe,” said Rosamond, “you are a good 
man to please me. If you would not go I 
should have had to stay at home.” 

“ I am not going there to please you,” re- 
plied Joe. “ I have to go there to work 
to-day, and I could not go unless my work 
took me to the brook. Your grandfather 
pays me to work for him, and watching you 
fish would be pleasure. I am glad that I 
am able to please you while I work.” 

As they were walking along near the row 
of willow-trees which grew close to the water, 
they stopped on hearing a queer noise. It 
sounded like a cat. “ Meouw-meouw,” was 
what they heard. 

“ A poor cat,” said Rosamond. “ It may 
be in the water. Perhaps some one threw 
it in to be drowned. How sad it sounds ! 
Hurry! Let us save it.” 

“You have been fooled,” said Joe. “That 


232 the ROSAMOND TALES. 

noise is made by what we call a cat-bird. I 
saw it fly to its nest in that willow. A cat- 
bird likes a willow-tree in which to build its 
nest. It is always close to some water.'' 

Rosalind asked Joe to find the nest 

“ I do not like to show it to you," said Joe, 
“ because it scares the mother-bird to have 
persons near their home. They are afraid 
that their eggs will be stolen ; but you may 
learn something. Here it is, not far above 
the ground," and Joe held the tender branches 
back. 

Both children looked in. There were 
small birds in the hollow of the tree. When 
they heard the branches move they stretched 
their mouths wide open, and as their eyes 
were still closed, for they were young, they 
nearly tumbled out of the nest in their hurry 
to get at the food, which they thought that 
their mother was bringing. 

'' Get one of your smallest worms," said 
Joe, ‘‘and we will feed them." 

Although Rosamond picked out a small 
worm, the little birds were not strong enough 


THE FISHING -POOL, 


233 


to bite it, and it wriggled about their necks. 
Even when the worm was cut in two, the 
birds could not eat it. 

“No doubt the mother-bird chews a worm 
into bits,” said Joe. “We will leave a few 
worms here and let her find them ; but we 
will give them a drop of water for a treat, 
because they want something.” Saying this, 
Joe took a stick, stuck it in the brook, and 
let the water drop from it into one little 
mouth after the other. “ It is best not to 
feed them at all,” said Joe. “We may do 
more harm than good, if we do not know 
what we should give to them.” 

“ That was a strange noise,” said Rosa- 
mond, as they walked on toward the fishing- 
pool. “ I thought that it was a cat. A 
mocking-bird could not do it better, but I 
suppose that a mocking-bird can also make 
the noise of a dog or a chicken.” 

“Yes,” said Joe. “A mocking-bird can 
fool you by singing like every bird that it 
has once heard; but there are birds which 
never sing, like the owl, the eagle, and the 


THE ROSAMOND TALES. 


234 

hawk. The birds that eat other birds do not 
seem to be happy, for they do not sing, nor 
do the birds which swim or wade in water 
sing, making only curious cries, more like 
shrieks or a scream. There are also dogs 
which never bark. These are the dogs which 
live on a big island called Australia, the 
shepherd dog of Egypt, and the lion-headed 
dog of a country called Tibet. There are 
some birds which sing only in the morning, 
like the lark, while others, like the whippoor- 
will, sing only at night. It is in the spring, 
while building their nests, that the birds sing 
the most. Birds like to sleep in the same 
spot each night. It is their home. There 
is a sparrow which comes to the barn and 
sleeps on the same place on the beam every 
night. It has no nest there, but it seems to 
like the spot. Birds are often the same 
colour as the trees in which they build. This 
is nature’s wise plan, because they look so 
much like the leaves that the hunter, or any 
larger bird, cannot find them. You will find 
that ocean birds are the colour of the foam 



AT THE FISHING POOL. 



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THE FISHING -POOL. 


237 


on the wave, and that birds which run along 
the beach are the colour of the sand. While 
some catch smaller birds to eat, like the 
hawk and the eagle, others prefer seeds and 
insects. Birds go to the warm countries of 
the South in the winter, and return many 
miles again in the summer, to the same 
places. Those birds which live on dry land 
travel by day, and water-birds make their 
journey by swimming at night. Birds that 
fly by night have eyes nearly twice as large 
as the day birds.” 

While they had been talking they had 
w'alked until they arrived at the fishing-pool. 
There was a grassy bank, and not far off was 
the log across the stream which was used as 
a bridge. The children sat down, and Rosa- 
mond put a worm on his hook. He asked 
Joe whether he thought it pained the worm 
to have the hook thrust through its body, 
and Joe said that he thought it did, or 
the worm would not wriggle so. He also 
said that the fish they were about to 
catch had cold blood and that it was not 


238 


THE ROSAMOND TALES. 


thought they felt pain so much as a bird or 
animal. 

There were a great many dragon-flies dart- 
ing about, close to the surface of the water. 
Rosamond said that they had a name which 
he did not like, and it made him think of a 
dragon. For that reason, he said, he did not 
like to have one alight upon his hand ; but 
Joe told him that in the country they also 
called them darning-needles, and that he 
intended to catch a few to take home. 

“ What do you want them for ? '' asked 
Rosamond. 

“ Because the dragon-fly eats mosquitoes. 
I will hang the dead dragon-fly by a thread 
over my head. It will be a mosquito scare- 
crow, for the mosquitoes are afraid to come 
where they see a dragon-fly.’' 

An ugly large fly rested on Rosamond s 
hand a minute. It was a deep blue in colour, 
and soon bit him. I will kill all those big 
flies that come near me,” said he, in disgust: 
“ They are no good ! ” 

“ Indeed they are good,” replied Joe. 


THE FISHING- POOL. 


239 


“ Every single thing that you see is good for 
something. Those big flies, which we call 
bluebottles, will eat the dead bodies in the 
field, and in that way stop sickness. Three 
of those flies, I have been told, can lay enough 
eggs in three hours to devour an entire dead 
horse. This would be much better than to 
have it decay in the fields.” 

Rosamond was much surprised by what 
he had learned. He thought that Joe must 
learn a great many useful things by living in 
the country. By this time Rosamond had 
his line dangling in the water. Soon he felt 
a fish nibbling. It pulled the cork floater 
down, and it bobbed on the surface of the 
water. 

“ I can see to the bottom,” said Rosamond 
to Rosalind. “ The fish which is biting is 
only a small one. I wish it would go away 
and that the big fellow beating the ground 
with its tail would stop doing that long 
enough to see my worm.” 

“I see the one that you mean,” said Joe. 
“That is a large sunfish building a nest in 


240 


THE ROSAMOND TALES. 


which to lay its eggs. It is fanning the 
gravel with its tail until it forms a basin. 
Watch how it draws the pebbles which are 
too heavy to be fanned into its mouth, then 
swims to the edge of the circle and coughs 
them out. See, there comes a fish to look 
on, but our friend does not want help and 
drives the other off.” 

Rosamond thought that it was more fun 
watching this than fishing, and he forgot to 
look at his own hook. There was a fish 
firmly held. Not the little fellow after all,” 
said Rosamond. 'Tt will do to eat.” 

“ It is a beauty,” said Rosalind. See 
how it gasps. Is it drowning in the air?” 

‘‘Yes,” replied Joe. “ It is just the same 
as drowning. It cannot live out of the 
water any longer than a cat can live under 
the water.” 

They laid it upon a stone, but Joe said 
that the best way to do would be to run a 
string under the gills and fasten it to a stick, 
letting it stay alive in the water. “Then,” 
said he, “ we may select the big ones to take 



WATCHING THE FISH 
















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THE FISHING ‘POOL. 


243 


home to cook for supper, and the small ones 
can be put back to grow until large enough 
to catch some other day/' 

The fish which he had caught had lost 
some of the bright scales, and Rosamond 
asked Joe whether he thought it would get 
well if he put it back. “ It looks as though 
it had been sick." 

Joe told him that new scales would never 
grow again on a fish, after they had been 
rubbed off by being scratched against a 
sharp stone. “ The broken skin is healed 
and a thicker skin grows there, but a new 
scale never covers the spot." 

Rosamond had removed the hook with 
care so as not to tear the fish, and he watched 
it splash in the water at the end of the string. 
“ I do not like the smell of the slime on a 
fish," said Rosamond. Is there any use 
for slime?" 

“Yes," said Joe, “there is a use for 
slime on a fish, and also a reason why it 
smells so. The slime protects the scales, 
allows the fish to swim faster because it is 


244 


THE ROSAMOND TALES. 


slippery, and makes it harder for another 
fish to bite, or hold on. Small water-plants 
might commence growing on a fish if the 
slime were not there. The smell is not liked 
by other fish, and in that way it keeps them 
away.” 

Do you think that fishes ever go to 
sleep?” asked Rosamond, just feeling a 
nibble at his hook, and almost too busy to 
ask questions. 

“ I know that they do,” replied Joe. They 
sleep while they stay still in the water, as 
you may see them sometimes. They do not 
have to close their eyes to sleep. They 
have no eyelashes, because there is no dust 
in the water to be kept from falling into the 
eye; but they have eyelids. Touch, or 
try to touch, the eye, and it lowers what 
looks like a curtain over the eyes. They do 
not often use eyelids, because it is somewhat 
dark in the water, or they can find a dark 
spot under the shore in which to sleep.” 

Rosamond fished for about an hour. He 
then thought that he had all the fish that 



ROSAMOND FISHED FOR ABOUT AN HOUR. 









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THE FISHING- POOL. 


247 


they could eat for supper, and he said : “ Let 
us now go home, for if we caught any more 
fish it would be wrong, because we have no 
good use for them. I do not like to kill 
them for pleasure alone.” 

“ Nor do I,” said Rosalind. “ I think that 
it is not nice to catch any. I would prefer 
to leave them all in the water and watch 
them there. We can come down to feed 
them.” 

Rosamond did not agree with her. He 
wanted to take home the big ones which he 
had saved, but was willing to let the small 
ones go. To please Rosalind he threw four 
more fish into the brook, saying : “ There 
are the fish which were yours, but if you 
wish you may eat some of mine when they 
are cooked.” 

They then picked up all their things with 
care to leave none, and started for home, 
Rosalind helping him by carrying the fish. 


XV. 


TAMING A SQUIRREL. 

Owning a few pets made Rosamond 
wish to have more. For many days he 
had asked Joe to help him catch a squirrel. 
What he meant by help him, was to have 
Joe do all the catching, and then he would 
own it. But each time Joe had replied that 
cutting the grass had kept him too busy 
during the haying time, and therefore he 
must wait until later. This was sad news 
for Rosamond, who saw squirrels and chip- 
munks running along the fence rails each 
time that he went driving through the woods 
with his grandfather; but he did not know 
how to catch them. 

One day his grandfather took him up into 
the pasture to see the new calf and the sheep, 
and as they were walking through the fields 

248 



ONE DAY HIS GRANDFATHER TOOK HIM UP INTO THE PASTURE. 









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TAMING A SQUIRREL. 25 1 

of grain they saw Sancho rush wildly by and 
up the hill ahead of them. They could not 
see his body, to tell where he had gone, be- 
cause the wheat was so tall that it hid him 
from view ; but by the way the grain moved 
they saw that Sancho was rushing straight 
up the hill. 

“ Come quickly,” said his grandfather. 
“ The dog is chasing a woodchuck. He is 
close after him, I know, for he did not have 
time to bark. We will go up and see them 
■fight it out, and my big walking-stick will 
end its life before it turns and bites Sancho.” 

This was the kind of sport that Rosamond 
liked. It was better, he thought, than play- 
ing Indians, for this was real hunting, and 
with success they would be able to bring 
back the captive. So they ran up the hill in 
the path that the dog had left, as fast as they 
could, until at last they came to the spot 
where the dog stood. There was Sancho 
with his tail straight out behind, and his head 
was pointing down. 

“ I do believe that the dog has got the 


252 THE ROSAMOND TALES. 

woodchuck,” said Rosamond. '' He is look- 
ing at something.” 

No, he has not got it,” said his grand- 
father. That is only the hole which he is 
looking at, but we may see the creature 
yet.” 

“ Do you think that the woodchuck is in 
his hole in the ground, and that we may 
smoke him out, as Joe says they smoke fly- 
ing squirrels from their nests in the hollow of 
trees ? ” 

“No,” replied his grandfather. “The 
woodchuck is not in his hole. Therefore 
we cannot smoke him out. But I see that 
Sancho knows a secret or two. A good 
huntingdog, when he smells a woodchuck’s 
trail in the field, does not run about to find 
the animal. Instead, the dog runs to the 
hole and waits there, knowing that the wood- 
chuck will try to reach home when there is 
danger. We will walk about. Possibly we 
may scare the woodchuck back to the hole.” 

They walked away, but had hardly taken 
ten steps when they heard a howl. 


TAMING A SQUIRREL. 


253 


“ The old chuck is back, and he is trying 
to get into his hole. He is fighting the dog, 
and no doubt turned and bit him. Hurry.” 

“ Poor Sancho,” said Rosamond. 

“The dog will not mind the bite. He 
likes the sport, and so long as he feels that 
pain he will be anxious to leave the house to 
hunt for more woodchucks. See ! The dog 
has the animal by the back. He is crushing 
its sides. That chuck will never eat any 
more of my grain, but I suppose that there 
are many more that should be caught. I 
wish that Joe would spend the day killing 
these animals ; it would do more good than 
anything else he can do on the farm, and the 
squirrels are about as bad.” 

They walked closer. The woodchuck was 
now dead. Sancho stood quietly looking to 
see if it moved a claw. It seemed like a 
huge rat ; its fur was a dark brown and long, 
it had flat paws like those of a beaver, and 
the teeth were small, close together, and sharp. 
It looked savage. While they were gazing 
at it, the dog picked the woodchuck up and 


254 


THE ROSAMOND TALES. 


started toward the house. They followed, 
and when they stepped upon the piazza, there 
lay the woodchuck, with Sancho near by, 
looking at their faces as though saying, “ 1 
did my duty. I brought it home for you. 
Take it as my present.” 

Rosamond took the body out to Joe, who 
cut it up the stomach with a sharp knife, 
then turning it inside out, stripped the fur 
from the body. “ I am going to tack it to 
the barn door, where it will dry in the sun. 
The salt which I rub on will keep it from 
decaying. It will make a nice skin rug for 
your room.” 

Rosamond thanked him, then he told Joe 
what his grandfather had said about killing 
all the woodchucks and squirrels on the 
farm. “He wants you to spend the day 
hunting them,” said Rosamond. “ I do not 
care if you kill the ugly woodchucks, but I 
do not want you to touch a single squirrel. 
They look so pretty and are so cunning. 
But you can catch them alive if you wish.” 

“All right,” said Joe. “It is a bargain. 


TAMING A SQUIRREL. 


255 


We will go hunting this afternoon. I will 
take my gun and Sancho, and kill wood- 
chucks. You take a trap and catch squir- 
rels.” 

“ But I have no trap, and I cannot find 
one in the village store. I tried to buy one.” 

“Then I shall make one for you. It is 
easy to make a trap to catch squirrels.” 

They walked to the wood-house back of 
the kitchen. Here Joe found a square 
wooden box. It had once held crackers, 
and was to be broken up for kindling-wood. 
He laid this on his work-bench, with his 
sharp tools near by, ready for use, — a chisel, 
saw, and large gimlet. He first fastened 
the top to one side of the box by two hinges 
made from leather which he cut from an old 
shoe. At the other end of the lid he drove 
in a nail as a knob to open it by. Behind 
the back of the box he nailed a tall board 
which made the whole thing look like a 
church with a steeple. Through this he 
bored a hole. The trap was now nearly 
made. Rosamond watched him closely. 


256 THE ROSAMOND TALES. 

The next thing that Joe did was to whittle 
a stick until it passed through the small hole 
which he had made with the gimlet. To 
the knob, or nail, he tied a string, and 
passed it over the top of the steeple, down 
to the small stick which rested in a notch in 
the rod passing into the box. Last of all 
he knocked one side of the box out and 
tacked a fine wire netting there instead. 

‘‘There is your trap,” said Joe. “The 
wire netting will allow us to look in to see 
if a squirrel has been caught. It will then 
do as a nice cage to keep him in, as well as 
a trap.” 

Rosamond thanked him, and putting the 
box under his arm, he went with Joe up the 
road which led to the mountain beyond 
the grain field. Joe carried a gun, and 
Sancho ran on ahead, smelling here and 
there. As they passed Sam s house, both 
he and Ben ran out. “ May we go with 
you ? ” asked the two boys. 

“Yes,” said Joe. “We will be glad to 
have you come, and you can help. We 


TAMING A SQUIRREL. 


257 


want to catch a squirrel, but do not expect 
to gel one right away. It will take some 
time, perhaps a day or longer. I think that 
it is best to place both apples and nuts 
inside the trap. We will stop here to get 
the apple, and when in the woods can find 
the nuts.” 

So saying, Joe shook a tree and picked 
out five apples, one apiece for themselves, 
and one for the squirrel trap. When in the 
woods Joe looked around until he found a 
tree with the bark of the hickory. Then he 
pointed among the branches and said : “ We 
must get some of those nuts. Sam, being the 
largest boy, may try and knock them down. 
Throw a stick among the branches, Sam.” 

Sam threw well and hit the lower branches. 
Many nuts fell, and finding two stones, he 
cracked open the outer shell, or burr, but 
did not break the shell of the nuts. 

When they had gone a little farther, Joe 
pointed to a hole at the bottom of a tree. 
“ There,” said he, “ is a good place for the 
trap. That is a squirrel’s hole.” 


258 THE ROSAMOND TALES. 

Rosamond put the trap down at the other 
side of this tree, and Joe showed him how 
to place the apple on the wooden rod inside, 
so that when the squirrel nibbled, the cover 
of the box should fall. They left it there 
and went on into the woods, looking for 
woodchucks. Before they had gone far, Joe 
shot three partridges, which he said would 
be much better than chicken for their 
dinner; but he thought that the best place 
to shoot woodchucks was in the field. On 
the way down the mountain the boys stopped 
to see if any squirrel had been caught, but 
none had been at the trap. The lid still 
stood upright as when they had left it. 

They now entered the field. Sancho 
barked, and all hurried on, crying, “ A wood- 
chuck, a woodchuck ! ” but Rosamond was 
surprised to find that it was not a wood- 
chuck, but a small animal, looking much 
like a fat mouse, with fur like that he had 
seen on womens coats, soft, and gray in 
colour. 

“What is it?” he asked Joe. “It does 


TAMING A SQUIRREL. 


259 

not run fast. Is it a field mouse or a field 
rat ? ” 

“ Neither. It is a mole. I do not think 
that it will bite us if we hold it in our hands, 
although it has small, sharp teeth. It gnaws 
the grain, and is bad for the farmer.” 

They took it up and looked at it closely. 
They had a hard time finding its eyes, but 
Joe brushed the fur back from its nose, and 
showed the boys two little spots, like black 
beads. Rosamond wanted to take it home, 
but Joe told him that it would soon die, 
even should he feed it fruit and grain. No 
one wanted to kill it, but Joe said that it 
was best to do so, and that he should make a 
pocket-book for Rosamond with the soft skin. 

The boys were sorry to have to return to 
their homes with no squirrel, but they knew 
that in time they should have one, for the 
trap was a good one, and many times before 
had they caught them in the woods. For 
one day they waited without going to the 
woods to see if there was a squirrel there, 
because it was Sunday, and Joe had told 


26 o 


THE ROSAMOND TALES. 


Rosamond’s father that there was enough 
food in the trap to keep an animal alive until 
Monday morning without fear of starving. 
But on Monday morning Rosamond was 
anxious to go to see if any squirrel had 
been there. Joe said that he might find 
time to take them up the mountain in the 
afternoon, but that he was too busy that 
morning. He asked Rosamond to go with 
him to help those in the hay-field, and he 
found that the morning passed quickly. It 
was fun raking the hay into piles, and after 
the wagon was loaded he rode to the barn 
on top of it. 

When afternoon came, the three boys met 
behind the house and waited until Joe 
hitched the horse for Rosamond’s father. 
Then they jumped with glee, thinking of 
the fine squirrel which they hoped was now 
waiting for them to take home. Joe said 
that he was ready to go because he wanted 
to find a cow which had gone astray, and 
which might be lost in the woods. He was, 
also, glad to go. 



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TAMING A SQUIRREL. 


263 


As they walked up the mountain they did 
not stop to get any apples or nuts. They 
wanted one thing, — a squirrel, — and that 
was all that they talked about. Coming to 
the tree where they left the trap, Rosamond 
said that he was willing that Joe should 
toss up a cent to see which one might go 
ahead and look inside, but said Joe, “ If the 
squirrel is inside, with the cover down, he 
cannot get out. If he is not inside, then 
there will be nothing to scare away. There 
is no reason to go up quietly, and we shall 
all go. It will be fun for each.” 

They approached the trap, and when around 
on the side of the tree where it was, could 
see that the cover was down. “ It is down ! 
It is down!” shouted all the boys. “We 
have him at last.” 

Looking through the wire netting of the 
side, Rosamond saw something moving 
about. It turned toward him, and showed 
two bright eyes. Its long tail was curved 
up and over its back, falling about its 
face. 


264 the ROSAMOND TALES, 

It is a beautiful squirrel/’ said Rosa- 
mond to Sam. It has a fine fur, and 
its tail is thick and bushy. How I do 
hope that it will be tame if I treat it 
well ! ” 

Joe said that he would carry the box for 
them, so that the squirrel should not get 
away. Although Rosamond and Sam 
wanted to carry the trap, they said that Joe 
knew best. Jumping about, they hurried 
down the mountain, and put the cage on a 
nail, upon the piazza wall, where all could 
stand around and see it. Rosalind ran in- 
side, and brought out some cake and fruit, 
which they slipped inside, but the squirrel 
did not touch it, for he seemed scared in 
his new house. Each one wanted to feed 
it, but Joe said that it was best to walk 
away for a time and allow it to become 
used to the place. 

They kept the squirrel in the trap for 
some weeks, and the children took good care 
to see that it did not lack food. One day 
Rosamond was trying to pat its head, when 


TAMING A SQUIRREL. 


265 


the little animal opened its mouth and in a 
minute he was bitten, the sharp teeth draw- 
ing the blood. He did not wait to decide 
what to do then. He opened the cage 
door and said : “ If you are going to be 
cross, then I do not want you to stay with 
me.” 

The squirrel saw the open door and jumped 
out. Soon he was seated on a branch of an 
elm-tree. Then Rosamond went in to have 
his father put a bandage upon his finger. 
“ I have let the squirrel go,” said he. “ See 
what he has done.” 

The finger did not ache long, and the next 
morning it was well. Coming on the piazza 
Rosamond’s father said to him, “ I thought 
that you told me last night that your squir- 
rel had gone. See ! There he is seated in 
the cage.” 

Rosamond looked. There was the squir- 
rel eating a nut. 

“ I guess that he likes it better here than 
in the woods after all,” said Rosamond, 
“and if he does, I will let him stay and he 


266 


THE ROSAMOND TALES. 


may always have the door open.” So 
they allowed the squirrel to live in the 
cage upon the piazza wall, and he often 
made little trips away, but always came 
back. 


XVI. 


SNOW FORTS. 

When all the nuts had fallen from the 
trees, and the wild flowers had gone, because 
it was too cold for them to grow, Rosamond’s 
father said that it was time to go back to 
the city to live for the winter. Rosamond 
was sorry to go and leave his many friends 
in the country, and it made him feel sadder 
still because his father would not let him 
take his pet lamb with him. He cried when 
he was told that Dick must stay behind, 
and he asked his father how the lamb would 
live when the snow came. 

“ Dick will stay in the large room under 
the barn when the days are cold,” said his 
father. “ On warm, sunny days he will run 
outside. At our home in the city he could 
not have such a good place, for there we 

267 


268 


THE ROSAMOND TALES. 


could build only a wooden house. It would 
be cold, and he would not be happy. Grand- 
father’s barn has a thick stone wall, and it is 
partly underground, so that no cold wind 
blows against it. When the straw is thrown 
in there, he will have a nice warm bed, and 
will sleep close to the other lambs.’’ 

“ But what can he find to eat when the 
snow covers the grass ? ” asked Rosamond, 
afraid to leave Dick unless he knew that 
some one would care for him. 

'' He will have the long grass which you 
helped the men to cut and rake into piles. 
It is dry now, but lambs and horses like 
it almost as well as grass. It is called 
hay.” 

This pleased Rosamond, and on the day 
he was to go back to the city with his father 
and mother, he first went out to the barn to 
see Dick for the last time that year. He 
could not bear to leave his pet, so kneeling 
on the ground, he put his arms about Dick’s 
neck, and stroked his fuzzy head and smooth 


nose. 


SJVOIV FORTS. 


269 


“ You will have grandfather to take care 
of you while I am away,” said Rosamond. 
“ He has a barn full of hay for you, and 
some day, when I come back, you must run 
to me again as you do now. You must not 
forget me, though perhaps I shall not know 
you. During the winter your shaggy coat 
will grow so long, to protect you from the 
cold, that I may not know you from any 
other lamb, in your ulster. But you will 
know me, and must run to lick my hand the 
moment that I call ‘ Cuday - — Cuday.’ ” 

All that morning Rosamond felt sad, but 
when it came time to pile the trunks high 
upon the farm cart and climb into the car- 
riage beside his grandfather for the last ride 
in the country, he felt better, because he 
liked to ride in the train, to watch the 
engine, and to rush by fields where lambs, 
cows, and horses could be seen. 

At the station Rosamond cried again, but 
Rosalind said that she was glad to go to 
their city home, because she had few friends 
in the country, and knew that she had many 


2 70 the ROSAMOND TALES. 

good ones in the big city, who were waiting 
for her to return. Sam and Ben came run- 
ning to the station, trying to get there before 
the train should take their friend away. 

Here is the whistle that you wanted,’' 
said Sam. I did not mean to keep it.” 
“ And here is a turtle for you to take with 
you on the train,” said Ben, as he handed to 
Rosamond a small tin can, from which the 
water was dripping upon the walk. He is 
the smallest one I had, but I want you to 
have him. Take him home and put him in 
a glass bowl. You can teach him to come 
by holding out a piece of meat. Your father 
will not mind, will he, if you take this can 
on the train ? It was all that I had to put 
him in. But do not let him splash out, for if 
he gets away on the train, and falls out 
where there is no water near, to swim in, he 
will die.” 

Rosamond thanked both Sam and Ben, 
and as he did so, a loud whistle was heard. 
The train was coming. 

Good - bye, grandfather,” said the two 


SNOW FORTS. 


271 


children, as they threw their arms about his 
neck. 

“ Come again next summer,” said he, 
“ and we will have some more good times. 
You have been a great help to me.” 

Then they jumped aboard the train, and 
waved their hands from the car window. 

Not many days after their return from 
the country, Rosamond’s father spoke to 
him about the things he should need when 
the snow came. 

“ I shall buy a pair of rubber boots for 
you now, the kind that will pull high up on 
your legs ; but you must wait until Christ- 
mas for a sled and skates. Those are 
presents which you wilt like better after you 
are tired of making snow forts and building 
dams. The boots will be needed if you are 
to play in the snow, and you may wear them 
to school if you can take them off while 
there, wearing felt slippers, for the rubber 
boots make the feet too warm.” 

Rosamond had never worn high boots, and 
he said that he should be glad to wait for 


272 


THE ROSAMOND TALES. 


the other things if he might have the boots. 
But what he wanted more than the boots 
was the snow to play in. “ This I cannot 
buy or make,” said his father, but it will 
soon come.” 

One night, not long after this, Rosamond 
awoke. His father heard him turning in 
his bed. Then he asked for a drink of 
water. 

“ I have something to show to you,” said 
his father, softly. It is a surprise.” 

“ But I cannot see it,” said Rosamond. 

It is too dark in the room.” 

‘‘ It is not in here,” said his father. It is 
outside. The moon is so bright that you 
may see it plainly.” 

He lifted Rosamond up to the window, 
and they looked out. The ground was cov- 
ered with snow. 

'' It is the snow, is it not, father? ” 

'‘Yes, and I think that we shall have 
much more of it before morning. The wind 
is coming from the north, and in the north 
it is dark. The darkness means snow clouds. 


SJVOIV FORTS. 273 

and the snow comes from the north. It 
will surely snow again.” 

Rosamond smiled, then curled himself up 
on his pillow, and was soon sleeping. 

In the morning he awoke early, and be- 
fore eating his breakfast was out, playing in 
the snow. His father had been right. It 
was now so deep that it covered his knees, 
and in some places was deeper. Where the 
wind had blown the snow it was in mounds 
half as tall as he, much like waves of the sea 
turned white. 

It was Saturday, and as he did not have 
to go to school, his father said that he 
should send a boy up to the house from the 
store with the rubber boots, so that he might 
have a good time. As he started to go down 
the street to his office, he said, “ I advise you 
to make a snow fort.” 

“ I never made a good one, father, but if 
you will show me how to make it, I shall try 
to make a big one.” 

His father then asked him to bring a shovel 
from the coal-bin, which Rosamond did. 


274 


THE ROSAMOND TALES, 


“ You will notice that the snow is as deep 
as the flat part of the shovel, and that it has 
a crust like the hard frosting of a cake. 
That is because it rained last night after the 
snow fell, and then the wet, watery snow on 
top was frozen when it was cold ; so hard is 
it that you may almost walk over the frozen 
waves of snow. That crust makes it firm. 
You may cut a piece out with a stick, and 
hold it in your hand like a board. Take the 
shovel and hold it up straight, the blade 
down, then chop to the ground on four sides, 
as though making a square of ice. This 
makes a lump, you see, like a square cake of 
ice, only not so hard, and you must be 
careful not to break it.” 

Rosamond did so, and then paused to hear 
what else his father should say. 

“ Now slide the shovel under the cake 
of snow. Lift it upon your sled, with the 
shovel still beneath, and drag it slowly to 
the place where you wish to build a fort. 
Make it close to the fence, then one side will 
be strong.” 


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SJ\rOIV FORTS. 277 

Rosamond did all this with great care, so 
that when the sled had been drawn to the 
line of the square which his father had 
marked in the white field of snow, as the 
outline of the fort, all that he had to do was 
to slide the lump from the shovel, and thus 
form the wall of the fort. His father now 
left him, but it was not long before Joe 
came with the rubber boots. They fitted 
his feet nicely, and he now had no fear of 
getting wet. 

“Will you help me build this fort?” asked 
Rosamond, when he had his boots on, and 
w'as ready to proceed. 

“ No,” replied Joe, “ I am too busy, be- 
sides your father would like to have you 
make it yourself, and, if you succeed, it will 
give you more pleasure to have it all your 
own work.” 

“ Will you not help me to lift one cake of 
snow above the other?” asked Rosamond. 
“ It is too hard for me to lift them as high 
as my head, and it will not be a good fort 
unless it is so high.” 


278 


THE ROSAMOND TALES. 


Joe put down his basket of kindling-wood 
which he was carrying for the kitchen fire. 

'' It will be easy for you to do it. The 
thing is to know how. Make your first 
layer, or row of snow, three cakes broad. 
Put three cakes side by side all the way 
around the fort. Then lift the next lump 
of snow upon the shovel, and lay it on the 
top of the row. Push it off, and get an- 
other. If the lowest row is three cakes 
broad, make the row above two cakes broad, 
then you can lift the shovel up with its load, 
one step at a time; climb up yourself, and 
raise it higher. The fourth and fifth rows 
need be only one cake thick. It is as simple 
as walking up-stairs with a lump of snow on 
your shovel.” 

Rosamond thought that it was an easy 
way. He drew many cakes of snow, and 
at last had a fine fort. Where he wanted a 
window and a door, Joe placed barrel sticks 
across the openings, upon which Rosamond 
piled the snow. On the top of the fort he 
put a flag. The only trouble that he had 



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SNOIV FORTS. 


281 


had was in keeping Sancho from prancing 
about, spoiling the snow so that it could not 
be cut into cakes. When the fort was made, 
Joe came out from the cellar, where he had 
been busy chopping wood, and said : ‘‘ It is 
well done, and all your own work, too. But 
you have laid the grass bare in the path 
which you dug. I must throw some snow 
over it, for the grass must be kept warm.’' 

“ Will cold snow keep things warm ? ” 
asked Rosamond. 

‘‘Yes,” answered Joe. “It is almost as 
good as a blanket to keep the heat in. It 
is just as good to keep heat in as to keep 
cold out. Far up in the north, near the 
North Pole, and where the polar bears live, 
there is always snow on the ground, both 
summer and winter, and the people build 
huts of snow, into which they crawl through 
a small opening; then they close the door, 
when the heat from their bodies makes the 
air inside warm.” 

Rosamond laughed, and Joe passed on, 
for he saw that Rosalind was coming out 


282 


THE ROSAMOND TALES. 


to see the fort; besides,, he had work to 
do. 

'‘That is a nice house. Did you make 
it so high yourself, or did Joe help?” she 
asked. 

“ I made it,” replied Rosamond ; “ but it 
is not a house. It is a fort. A fort is used 
to keep persons from getting shot, and I 
intend to play war with the boys.” 

“ But the boys are not here. Let us use 
it as a house first, until they come. It will 
be warmer inside than out here in the wind. 
I will bring a chair.” 

“ I will build a fire inside. We will then 
close the door, as the people do far up in the 
north, and we will keep warm although it is 
a cold day.” 

He brought some small sticks, threw them 
in the centre of the fort upon a paper, and 
lighted a match. Soon there was a bright 
fire in the snow-house, and they were happy, 
so happy that they did not notice that the 
snow was melting, and that little streams of 
water were running down the sides. A large 


SJVOIV FORTS. 


283 


lump came tumbling down. It fell into the 
fire. The fire sputtered, and in a minute 
more the snow floor was covered with water. 

“ Oh, dear ! ” said Rosamond. “ The fire 
is spoiling our nice house. What shall I do ? 
Help me to get some water to put it out.” 

The children ran out of the door, scream- 
ing “Fire!” Joe heard them calling, and 
came to the spot. 

“ Get some water, Joe, please hurry,” said 
Rosamond, in his fright. “ My house will 
be ruined.” 

“Water would do no better than snow,” 
said Joe. “Throw a lump on the fire, and 
it will go out.” 

They did so. The fire went out, but 
Rosamond was sorry to see that the walls 
were still melting. 

“It will do no harm,” said Joe, “for the 
cold air to-night will freeze the wet snow, 
and make the walls just like ice. I will help 
you sprinkle some more water on the sides. 
Then they will last longer.” 

When Rosamond’s father came home, he 


284 the ROSAMOND TALES. 

was told about the fire, and said that they 
must never start a blaze like that with no 
one around, even a bonfire in the snow 
might be bad ; but he was glad to see so 
large a fort, and advised Rosamond to wait 
until the next day before playing war, that 
the wet walls might have time to freeze 
hard. 

As they walked to the house, Rosamond 
said : “ Father, I do not know which I like 
best, the country or the city, summer or win- 
ter. Both seem to be so nice.” 

“ You are right,” replied his father. 
‘'When boys are good, they may find 
pleasure in everything, no matter what it 
may be.” 


THE END. 


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A delightful tale of the adventures of a little girl in the 
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For His Country. By Marshall Saunders. 

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A Little Daughter of Liberty. By Edith Robinson. 

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A Little Puritan RcbeL By Edith Robinson. 

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The King of the Golden River. A Legend of Stiria. 
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Pelle Nivernaisc. The Story of An Old Boat and 
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The Young King. The Star Child. 

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and deep significance. 

K Great Emergency. By Mrs. Ewing. 

The Trinity Flower. By Juliana Horatia Ewing. 

In this little volume are collected three of Mrs. Ewing’s 
best short stories for the young people. 


L. C. Page & Company’s 

Gift Book. Series 


FOR 

Boys and Girls 

* 

Each one volume^ tall \2mot clothe Illustrated, $1*00 

The Little Coloners House Party. By Annie Fellows 
Johnston. 

Author of ‘‘ Little Colonel,” etc. Illustrated by E. B. Barry. 

Mrs. Johnston has endeared herself to the children by her 
charming little books published in the Cosy Corner 
Series. Accordingly, a longer story by her will be 
eagerly welcomed by the little ones who have so much 
enjoyed each story from her pen. 

Chums, By Maria Louise Pool. 

Author of “Little Bermuda,” etc. Illustrated by L. J. 
l^ridgman. 

“ Chums” is a girls’ book, about girls and for girls. It re- 
lates the adventures, in school, and during vacation, of 
two friends. 

Three Little Crackers. From Down in Dixie. By Will 
Allen Dromc.oole. 

Author of “ The Farrier’s Dog.” A fascinating story for 
boys and girls, of the adventures of a family of Alabama 
children who move to Florida and grow up in the South 

Miss Gray^s Girls; or. Summer Days in the Scottish 
Highlands. By Jeannette A. Grant. 

A delightfully told story of a summer trip through Scot- 
land, somewhat out of the beaten track. A teacher, 
starting at Glasgow, takes a lively party of girls, her 
pupils, through the Trossachs to Oban, through the 
Caledonian Canal to Inverness, and as far north as 
Brora. 


Gift Book Series tor Boys and Girls — Continued, 

King Pippin : A Story for Children. By Mrs. Gerard 
Ford 

Author of “ Pixie.’* 

One of the most charming books for young folks which 
has been issued for some time. The hero is a lovable 
little fellow, whose frank and winning ways disarm even 
the crustiest of grandmothers, and win for him the affec- 
tion of all manner of unlikely people. 

Feats on the Fiord: A Tale of Norwegian Life. By 
Harriet Martineau. 

This admirable book, read and enjoyed by so many young 
people, deserves to be brought to the attention of parents 
in search of wholesome reading for their children to-day. 
It is something more than a juvenile book, being really 
one of the most instructive books about Norway and 
Norwegian life and manners ever written. 

Songs and Rhymes for the Little Ones. Compiled by Mary 
Whitney Morrison (Jenny Wallis). 

New edition, with an introduction by Mrs. A. D. T. Whitney. 

No better description of this admirable book can be given 
than Mrs. Whitney’s happy introduction : 

“One might almost as well offer June roses with the as- 
surance of their sweetness, as to present this lovely little 
gathering of verse, w’hich announces itself, like them, by 
its own deliciousness. Yet, as Mrs Morrison’s charming 
volume has long been a delight to me, I am only too 
happy to declare that it is to me — and to two families 
of my grandchildren — the most bewitching book of 
songs for little people that w'e have ever known.” 

The Young Pearl Divers: A Story of Australian Ad- 
venture BY Land and by Sea. By Lieut. H. 
Phelps Whitmarsh. 

This is a splendid story for boys, by an author who writes 
in vigorous and interesting language, of scenes and ad- 
ventures with which he is personally acquainted. 

The Woodranger. By G. Waldo Browne. 

The first of a series of five volumes entitled “ The Wood- 
ranger Tales.” 

Although based strictly on historical facts the book is an 
interesting and exciting tale of adventure, which will 
delight all boys, and be by no means unwelcome to their 
elders. 


Gift Book Series for Boy* and Girl* — Continued, 

Three Children of Galilee: A Life of Christ for the 
Young. By John Gordon. 

There has long been a need for a Life of Christ for the 
young, and this book has been written in answer to this 
demand. That it will meet with great favor is beyond 
question, for parents have recognized that their boys and 
girls want something more than a Bible story, a dry 
statement of facts, and that, in order to hold the atten- 
tion of the youthful readers, a book on this subject 
should have life and movement as well as scrupulous 
accuracy and religious sentiment. 

Little Bermuda. By Maria Louise Pool. 

Author of “ Dally,” “ A Redbridge Neighborhood,” “ In a 
Dike Shanty,” “ Friendship and Folly,” etc. 

The adventures of “Little Bermuda” from her home in 
the tropics to a fashionable American boarding-school. 
The resulting conflict between the two elements in her 
nature, the one inherited from her New England ances- 
try, and the other developed by her West Indian sur- 
roundings, gave Miss Pool unusual opportunity for 
creating an original and fascinating heroine. 

The Wild Rothvens: A Home Story. By Curtis York. 

A story illustrating the mistakes, failures, and successes of 
a family of unruly but warm-hearted boys and girls. 
They are ultimately softened and civilized by the influ- 
ence of an invalid cousin, Dick Trevanion, whe comes to 
live with them. 

The Adventures of a Siberian Cub. Translated from the 
Russian of Slibitski by Leon Golschmann. 

This is indeed a book which will be hailed with delight, es- 
pecially by children who love to read about animals. 
The interesting and pathetic adventures of the orphan- 
bear, Mishook, will appeal to old and young in much the 
same way as have “ Black Beauty” and “Beautiful Joe.” 

Timothy Dole. By Juniata Sai.sbury. 

The youthful hero, and a genuine hero he proves to be, 
starts from home, loses his way, meets w’ith startling ad- 
ventures, finds friends, kind and many, and grows to be a 
manly man. It is a wholesome and vigorous book, that 
boys and girls, and parents as well, will read and enjoy. 


Gift Book Series for Boys and Girls — Continutd. 

The Young Gunbearer. By G. Waldo Browne. 

This is the second volume of “ The Woodranger Tales.” 
The new story, while complete in itself, continues the 
fortunes and adventures of ” The Woodranger’s ” young 
companions. 

A Bad Penny, By John T. Wheelright. 

A dashing story of the New England of 1812. In the 
climax of the story the scene is laid during the well- 
known sea-fight between the Chesapeake and Shannon^ 
and the contest is vividly portrayed. 

The Fairy Folk of Blue Hill : A Story of Folk-lore. 
By Lily F. Wesselhoeft. 

A new volume by Mrs. Wesselhoeft, well known as one of 
our best writers for the young, and who has made a host 
of friends among the young people who have read her 
delightful books. This book ought to interest and ap- 
peal to every child who has read her earlier works. 


Selections from 

L. C. Page & Company’s 

Books for Young People 

♦ 

Oli Father Gander; or, The Better-Half of Mother 
Guuse. Rhymes, Chimes, and Jingles scratched from 
his own goose-quill for American Goslings. Illustrated 
with impossible Geese, hatched and raised by Walter 
Scott Howard. 

I vol., oblong quarto, cloth decorative . . . $2 oq 

The illustrations are so striking and fascinating that the 
book will appeal to the young people aside from the fact 
even of the charm and humor of the songs and rhymes. 
There are thirty-two full-page plates, of which many are 
in color. 'I'he color illustrations are a distinct and suc- 
cessful departure from the old fashioned lithographic 
w’ork hitherto invariably used for children’s books. 

The Crock of Gold: A New Book of Fairy Tales. 
By S. Baring Gould. 

Author of “ Mehalah,” “ Old Country Life,” “ Old English 
Fairy Tales,” etc. With twenty-five full-page illustrations 
by F. D. Bedford. 

I vol., tall i2mo, cloth decorative, gilt top . . $1.50 

This volume will prove a source of delight to the children 
of two continents, answering their always increasing de- 
mand for “ more fairy stories.” 

Shireen and Her Friends: The Autobiography of a 
Persian Cat. By Gordon Stables. 

Illustrated by Harrison Weir. 

I vol., large 1 2 mo, cloth decorative . . . $1.25 

A more charming book about animals Dr. Stables himself 
has not written. It is similar in character to “Black 
Beauty,” “ Beautiful Joe,” and other books which teach 
us to love and protect the dumb animals. 


Books for Young Continued. 

BoIIy^ Fagt and Hero. By Charles J. Mansford. 

With six full-page illustrations by S. H. Vedder. 

I vol., large i2mo, cloth decorative, gilt top . . $l.$0 

An interesting story of schoolboy life and adventure in 
school and during the holidays. 

The Adventures of a Boy Reporter in the Philippines. 
By Harry Steele Morrison. 

Author of “A Yankee Boy’s Success.” 

I vol., large 1 2mo, cloth, illustrated . . . $1.25 

A true story of the courage and enterprise of an American 
lad. It is a splendid boys’ book, filled with healthy inter- 
est, and will tend to stimulate and encourage the proper 
ambition of the young reader. 

Tales Told in the Zoo. By F. C. Gould. 

With many illustrations from original drawings. 

I vol., large quarto $2.00 

A new book for young people on entirely original lines. 
The tales are supposed to be told by an old adjutant stork 
in the Zoological Gardens to the assembled birds located 
there, and they deal with legendary and folk-lore stories 
of the origins of various creatures, mostly birds, and 
their characteristics. 

Philip: The Story of a Boy Violinist. By T. W. O. 

I vol., i2mo, cloth |r 00 

The life-story of a boy, reared among surroundings singular 
enough to awaken interest at the start, is described by 
the present author as it could be described only by one 
thoroughly familiar with the scene. The reader is cariied 
from the cottages of the humblest coal-miners into the 
realms of music and art ; and the finale of this charming 
tale is a masterpiece of pathetic interest. 

Black Beautv: The Autobiography of a Horse. By 
Anna Sewell. New Illustrated Edition. 

With twenty-five full-page drawings by Winifred Austin. 

I vol., large i2mo, cloth decorative, gilt top . . $1.25 

There have been many editions of this classic, but we con- 
fidently offer this one as the most appropriate and hand- 
some yet produced. The illustrations are of special 
value and beauty, and should make this the standard 
edition wherever illustrations worthy of the story are 
desued. 


Books for Younj: People — Continued. 

The Voyage of the Avenger: In the Days of the 
Dashing Drake. By Henry St. John. 

Author of “ A Middy of Nelson’s Day,” etc. With twenty- 
five full-page illustrations by Paul Hardy. 

I vol , tall i2mo, cloth decorative, gilt top, 400 pages $1.50 
A book of adventure, the scene of which is laid in that 
stirring period of colonial extension when England’s 
famous naval heroes encountered the ships of Spain, 
both at home and in the West Indies. Mr. St. John 
has given his boy readers a rattling good story of the 
sea. There is plenty of adventure, sufficient in fact to 
keep a boy fixed near the fireside until the last page is 
reached. ' 

A Child^s History of Spain. By Leonard Williams. 
Author of “ Ballads and Songs of Spain,” etc. 

1 vol., small i2mo, with frontispiece, cloth, gilt top $0.75 
Although the recent war with Spain has aroused general 
interest and caused a great demand for literature relating 
to the subject, there has not as yet been published a con- 
densed history of Spain for young people. Mr. Williams’s 
little book will prove a desirable addition to the children’s 
historical library. 

Fairy Folk from Far and Near. By A. C. Woolf, M. A. 
With numerous full-page color illustrations by Hans Reitz. 

I vol., large lamo, cloth decorative . . . ^1.50 

It is long since there has appeared such a thoroughly de- 
lightful volume of fairy tales as that of Annie C. Woolf. 
An added attraction to the book is found in the exquisite 
colored illustrations, the w’ork of Hans Reitz. As a 
Christmas gift-book to children, these tales will be hard 
to excel. 

The Magnet Stories. By Lynde Palmer. 

A new edition ; new binding and larger size volume, 5 vols., 


l2mo. Reduced price. 

Drifting and Steering $1.00 

One Day^s Weaving i-oo 

Archie^s Shadow i*oc 

John-Jack i-oo 

Jeannette^s Qstems i-oo 



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